


Learn to Love Again

by Mira_Laufeyson



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff, Implied Smut, Original Witch!Character, Season/Series 04, Slow Burn, and onwards
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:01:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 35
Words: 201,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24749539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mira_Laufeyson/pseuds/Mira_Laufeyson
Summary: When Tara Jones, an ordinary college girl with a serious chip on her shoulder, is thrown into the world of the supernatural, it seemed to her that she's lost what little she had to begin with.  But then she meets the Winchesters, and her life changes forever.Starts at the beginning of Season 4.
Relationships: Sam Winchester/OFC, Sam Winchester/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 92





	1. Freaky Friday

Tara Jones shifted in her seat in the old, poorly-air conditioned lecture hall, frantically writing down all the information on the current slide. A quick glance at her watch indicated that it was two minutes to the end of class. Good. Not that she didn’t like the topic, but an hour and fifteen minutes was a long time to have your thighs stick together.

Professor Morrison flipped to the last slide of the day, and Tara pulled her planner on top of her five-subject notebook.

“For class Monday, you’ll read the first section of  _ Hard Times _ and write a three-page comparative piece between it and the short story you read for today.” There were a few collective grumbles, mainly from the people sitting in the back. Given that this was the first week of classes, most people had probably been hoping for the weekend off, but Tara was glad for the work.

She wrote the details of the assignment into her planner, her new pen sliding smoothly over the paper. Then, she flipped her planner closed and slid it into her backpack, followed by her notebook.

“And that’s all for today, have a nice weekend everyone!” Before Professor Morrison finished speaking, there was a flurry of movement as all eighty students in the lecture hall made a beeline for the doors at the back.

Tara slung her back over her shoulder and stepped into the aisle, content to follow the crowd instead of pushing ahead.

“Hey, Tara.” A lanky blonde boy with freckles and glasses hopped over the rows of chairs until he got to her.

“Riley.” The brunette kept her eyes forward, suddenly wishing that the people ahead of her would stop dragging their feet.

“So, whatcha doin’ this weekend?”

“Read the first section of  _ Hard Times _ and write a three-page comparative paper.” She answered immediately.

“Well, yeah, I mean  _ after _ that.” He stepped over another row of chairs to stay side-by-side with her. When Tara didn’t answer, he took that as permission to continue, “Cause I was think...you...me...my place tomorrow night. We could order in–”

“I’m going to stop you right there.” Tara stopped moving forward and looked him in the eye, “I’m not interested. You’ve asked me out five times in the past two weeks. Learn to take no for an answer. Now, I actually have some questions for Professor Morrison.” She turned sharply and made her way towards the front of the lecture hall.

The silver-haired, middle-aged man was packing his notecards and other materials into his shoulder bag, but when he saw Tara coming, he stopped and smiled.

“Can I help you?”

“Yeah. My name’s Tara, I just transferred here. I had a quick question about–”

“Excuse me, Professor Morrison,” An fairly tall, older gentleman had come in through the side door of the lecture hall. He was wearing a suit, and his light brown hair was slicked back. He wore a stern, tired expression under his beard and mustache, and had a bit of a beer belly, but was by no means overweight. In what looked like a practiced move, he flipped open a leather badge.

“Agent Willis, FBI. You mind if I ask you a few questions?” He didn’t spare Tara so much as a glance. 

“Well, this young lady had a–”

“It-it’s alright, Professor.” Tara stammered, “I’ll email you.” She turned around and walked out of the now-empty lecture hall. 

“I’m here investigating the recent deaths on campus,” The agent began as the door closed slowly behind Tara. She’d heard about those. During the events last week to kick off the semester, three guys in Greek life had been found murdered. She didn’t know much more than that. There were rumors floating around of course, the most popular being that it was the work of some underground religious cult, but she didn’t really care. She hadn’t known those guys, hadn’t even been to any of the Greek life parties last week. But for the FBI to be here? Maybe that cult theory wasn’t too far off.

\------

Bobby Singer shoved open the door of Merrifield hall and was immediately blasted with a wave of heat and humidity. Even for mid-August, it was hotter than hell. Or not. Bobby winced, thinking of Dean as he made the trek back to his car. Why had he let that asshole Rufus talk him into taking this job? It was a milk run! He was dealing with the vengeful spirit of Kyle Foster, a local boy who had been a sophomore at the University at the time of his death.

He’d died in a hazing-gone-wrong twenty years ago, and now he was killing hard-ass pledge masters who got off on seeing others in pain.

And he was buried in the local cemetery just past the edge of campus.

Getting into his trusty old Cheville, Bobby pulled out his phone and dialed a number. The phone rang one, two, three, four times before there was a voice on the other end.

“It’s Sam. Leave a message.”

“Sam, listen. I know it’s been hard without Dean. But you don’t have to go it alone. Call me back.” He hung up, opened his flask, and went to drink. But it was empty. 

“Balls.”

He couldn’t go to the cemetery until after midnight, and it was just barely 4:45. 

\------

Tara sat down on the floor, her microwave dinner in front of her, on the little round table. When she moved in last week, one of the first things she’d discovered was that the stove didn’t work. She’d put in a request, but no one had come by yet.

The air conditioning seemed to be on the fritz too. As soon as she’d gotten back from class, Tara had tied her hair into a messy bun. But now, almost two hours later, about a third of it had escaped the hair tie and plastered itself against her neck. She needed a shower. Her pink-and-white crop top had become a second skin. But the thought of getting under the cold water that dribbled from that sorry excuse of a showerhead made Tara balk. 

At least she’d been able to find housing, she tried to reassure herself, and housing on campus at that. Looking around though, Tara was questioning every decision she’d made that had landed her here.

The apartment was bare of any personal touch. The only furniture had been provided by the building: the little circle table that her dinner was on, the sofa behind it that provided zero support, a TV that wasn’t connected, a bed, a dresser, and the stuff in the kitchen. Tara had meant to find a store last week, other than the Gas ‘N Sip down the block, and get herself at least some silverware, but it was much easier to sneak the plastic cutlery from one of the dining halls.

With her fork in one hand and  _ Hard Times _ held open with the thumb and pinky of the other, Tara stabbed blindly at the semi-soggy rigatoni in the plastic container. Sauce, which she suspected was just flavored water and  _ maybe _ some cream, dripped onto her leg. It burnt a bit, making her jump and rethink eating for the moment. She put down her fork and put all her focus on getting pulled into the novel.

Tara tossed the book down and rubbed her eyes. At last, she’d finished the first section. She didn’t know what time it was, only that it was dark outside. There wasn’t a clock to be seen, since the stove was busted, and the alarm clock that Tara had brought with her lived on her dresser–since a nightstand hadn’t been included in the furnishings.

She rubbed her eyes. That book had  _ dragged _ . She read Tolkien every year, and she thought she’d seen the height of flowery writing. Oh, was she wrong. Tara groaned as she picked up her trash from dinner. The pasta had been bland and tasteless. She  _ really _ had to find a grocery store this weekend.

Propping her door open, she walked quickly to the end of the hall, where the closed study lounge was. Well, the front desk said it was closed, but the door was unlocked, and there was a trash can inside. She didn’t have one of her own yet. Just another thing to put on the list.

Tara opened the door just far enough so she could toss the garbage into it. The flimsy plastic container sailed through the air, but fell short. It bounced off the rim of the trash can and clattered onto the hard floor. Tara winced at the ruckus, and scurried forward. She picked up the packaging and the fork and dropped them into the trash can, her heart pumping a bit faster than she would admit.

When she exited the lounge, Tara took a steadying breath. It was a Friday night, everyone who lived here was probably out partying–”

“The sign says the lounge is closed.” Came the smooth voice behind her. Tara jumped and whirled around. Riley was leaning against the wall, just past the lounge door, smirking. One hand was in his jeans pocket, the other was fiddling with a leather cord around his neck. It was pulled taut by whatever was on it, but said pendant was hidden by the folds of his crisp leather jacket.

“Riley? What the hell are you doing here? How did you find out where I live?!” Tara was backing up slowly. If she could just get to her door, 

“I know a lot about you, Tara Jones. That’s why I like you.” He matched her step for step, but his strides were longer.

“I never told you my–you stay the fuck away from me!” She turned to run, but there was a bright white flash. Tara’s vision was lost and she felt like she was falling. She braced herself, preparing to meet the nasty, carpeted floor, but she blacked out before impact.

\------

“I’m getting too old for this.” Bobby groused as he started filling the grave of Kyle Foster back in. The flames had finally died down to embers, allowing Bobby to descend into the grave and close the coffin.

Kyle’s ghost hadn’t even made an appearance tonight, making this case by far the easiest salt & burn Bobby had ever done. So much for the distraction. It was barely 1am and Bobby wanted whiskey. But, he still had to make the five-hour drive down I-29, so he was probably better off with coffee. Irish coffee. Just as soon as this grave was filled back in.

\------

When Tara came to, her head was pounding. It took her a moment to remember what had happened. She’d been at her apartment, just throwing away her dinner trash when–Riley! He’d kidnapped her! It took all of her willpower to not leap to her feet and make a half-cocked escape attempt. She was lying on the floor in some basement. Said floor was cold, and it just had that unfinished, damp basement smell to it. Tara blinked, trying to get her vision to focus. Everything was dim, the only light coming from a streetlamp filtering in through a dirty window at the top of the wall in front of her. Tara looked around before she moved. Her vision was still a bit off, but she was able to make out the contents of the room. 

The floor was solid cement, save for the hole in the left corner. The sump pump? Probably, it had some pipes running into it. Next to it was a box of sorts, with high walls on three sides, and a lower barrier at the front. It looked like it contained sand. Against the right wall sat a table with two chairs. There was a setup of some sort on the table, but from her spot on the floor, Tara couldn’t see specifics. 

But that meant that the door, and her only shot at escape, lay behind her. The window had a ledge, and standing up she could probably reach it, but the window seemed too small for her to fit through. 

Then again, everything still looked a bit off to her. The scale wasn’t right and there was something wrong with her eyes. Had Riley sprayed her with something? Drugged her somehow? All she remembered was the bright flash of light.

Slowly, Tara went to stand, but something brushed against her side. Her heart jumped and she grabbed at it, only to receive one of the greatest shocks of her life. Reaching out for the offending article at her command wasn’t a pale arm ending in a hand with manicured nails, but instead was a furry limb tipped with a cat’s paw!

She couldn’t help the surprised yelp that escaped her as she jumped, twisting to face the other direction. If she’d cared anymore, she would have noticed that indeed, not far behind her were the stairs leading out of here. For the moment, the door at the top was closed, but Tara couldn’t focus on that right now. 

She’d landed on all fours, and looking down, her front limbs were undoubtedly feline. Right down to the soft bean toes–which now felt the chill of the floor more acutely than her fur-covered skin did–and slim, sharp claws. Tara twisted her neck around and her stomach crawled to her throat when she saw that the feline features continued all the way to the tip of a long, slim tail. No doubt the thing that had brushed her side. She’d been turned into a cat!

The door at the top of the stairs opened suddenly, and Tara winced as the hinge squealed loudly. Light flooded in from the top of the stairs, making a silhouette of the figure descending. He looked much bigger now, and far more intimidating, even as he carried a single bowl carefully with two hands. Tara hated how much her heart sped up with fear.

Once at the bottom of the stairs, Riley took one hand off the bowl and yanked a string hanging from the ceiling, and a bare bulb flickered on. The bright light made Tara flinch and blink.

“Aw, there’s my pretty kitty.” Riley crouched to her level, “I guess you’ll be having dinner here tomorrow night after all.” He reached out with his to pet her, but Tara swiped his hand away, her new claws digging deep into his skin. Fury boiled under her skin at his sugared tone, and she bared her teeth for good measure.

“Ach!” Riley pulled back, his self-satisfied smirk gone.

“You know, I was going to bring you some food now. I got some wild-caught salmon at the store just for you earlier. But now you’re going to have to wait and settle for this.” He put the bowl down in front of her. Water.

“Now,” Riley stood up, “I’ll be back shortly. If you need the bathroom, figure out how to use the litter box.” He pointed to the odd box Tara had identified earlier. Then, he turned to go.

Tara was pissed. How had he done this? How  _ could _ he have? Magic wasn’t real! But the most important question on Tara’s mind was why. Why her? Why not someone else from class, or from a different class? Why now? But her tongue was different. Her whole mouth was. And when she went to form the first word, nothing came out. So she growled deep in her throat instead. At least  _ that  _ was still the same.

At her aggressive noise, Riley pivoted on the stairs and wagged a finger at her.

“Ah, ah, ah. None of that now, pretty kitty. We’re going to have plenty of time to get to know each other. I think you’ll find that I’m not so bad.” He shut the door behind him, and Tara heard at least two locks click into place.

Not so bad!? As if her life hadn’t been in shambles before. There was absolutely nothing left now! She’d been turned into a cat–a cat! And she was hundreds of miles from her home with no friends in town. 

And she was a fucking cat.

Riley had clearly scouted her out before this, and honestly, the answer to her ‘why’ question was glaringly obvious. She felt physically ill, and she suspected it wasn’t because her pasta dinner was disagreeing with her new stomach. This guy wasn’t just a creep, he was a stalker. He’d chosen someone new to a college town, someone with no connections. Someone no one would miss anytime soon.

But Tara knew she couldn’t afford to sit here feeling sorry for herself. Life as a stray cat would be better than an existence here, no matter what Riley tried to claim.

She examined the room again. Trying to bolt through the door was obviously not going to work. He was probably expecting something like that anyway. Set against the wall to the left of the stairs was a washing machine and a dryer, but nothing else.

Tara took some experimental steps forward. It was odd, suddenly walking on four legs, but she was figuring it out. Learning on the job, so to speak.

The only other way out of this basement, it seemed was the window at the top of the wall. Knowing now that she was a cat, fitting through wouldn’t be the problem, it would be getting there. And breaking the glass. But one problem at a time.

Tara’s eyes flicked between the table and the ledge. It looked really far, too far, but cats could jump. She hopped awkwardly up onto one of the chairs, and then onto the table. She had to twist at the last second to avoid one paw landing in a bowl powder of some sort. Her body swayed dangerously to the side, but right before she fell, her tail whipped out behind her, and she found her balance again.

The bowl of powder wasn’t the only thing on the table. There were bowls of other...less than normal things. Tiny sticks, feathers, liquids that looked (and smelled) suspiciously like blood, not to mention the bird skull and the satanic designs painted in white on the dark wood, along with several other odds and ends. Yeah, Riley was some sort of psychopath and Tara wasn’t sticking around to diagnose him.

She fixed her eyes on the ledge by the window. It seemed impossibly far away, more so than from the floor. If she missed, she would look like one of those cats from a fail video as she crashed into the wall. But she couldn’t stay here.

Tara positioned herself carefully as close as she dared to the edge of the table and crouched. She let her new body do the thinking for her and just focused on her inner monologue.

_ Cats can jump. Cats can jump. Cats can JUMP!  _

Using all her strength, Tara pushed off the table and sailed through the air with alarming speed and lightness. She was almost too focused on her flight to pay attention to the landing, but when her front paws made contact with the narrow ledge, she let her body bunch behind her, her back paws barely finding purchase.

Tara’s heart was in her throat. She’d made it! Now for the hard part.

She carefully turned herself sideways, so she could stand more naturally, and examined the window. It was filthy, and the glass looked pretty thick, at least as a cat, but what caught her attention were the pair of sliding levers, almost totally hidden and covered with dust, at the bottom of the window frame. Those had to do something.

Tara pawed at the one closer to her front paws. The film of dust came away easily, but it would go so much faster with actual fingers! Once the first lever was somewhat cleaned off, she turned around and did the same with the other one. Then, she tried to move the lever. It hurt, to squeeze her paws into the latch, but Tara ignored it. The lever was stubborn, partly rusted from age and lack of use. What Tara wouldn’t give for some opposable thumbs right now! She shook her paw out, trying to get the stinging to subside. She didn’t have much time before Riley came back, and if he caught her, it was all over.

Tara dug her paw back in again, jamming two of her toes into the too-small space. It hurt worse this time, the metal digging into her paw, but maybe...yes! The lever jolted out of its position and slammed against the other end with a loud  _ clack _ . Tara jumped at the noise, praying that Riley hadn’t heard, and she turned around and started on the other one. 

This one was easier, not as rusted, but it still hurt to get it to move. And of course, it was no less quiet.

“What are you doing down there, pretty?” Riley’s voice was muffled by the door, “I hope you’re not messing up my altar.” Tara glanced back at the satanic display. That was an altar? One of the locks on the door clicked and Tara panicked. She had to move,  _ now _ .

She body-slammed the window, trying to get it to move. With surprising speed, the window spun like a revolving door, the far end nearly pushing her off when it knocked into her rear. 

The second lock clicked, and Tara scrambled forward, her paws finding purchase in the soil just outside the window. A garden. Contrary to what she would have guessed, the garden was actually planted, with several things that Tara couldn’t identify. She recognized most flowers, but these bloom-less plants looked more like herbs than hasta.

As soon as she emerged from the basement, a new wave of smells assaulted her. She could smell the dirt, at least three of the plants, and the scents of all the other animals in the area, carried to her by the wind. It threatened to overwhelm her, but Tara wasn’t out of the woods yet. She turned back to the window and pawed at it. The window spun, and she tried to position it like it was closed. Even through the dirty glass, she could hear Riley descending the stairs.

“Oh, Tara.” He sang. Tara didn’t stay to hear more. She turned around and sprinted off as fast as she could.

Tara had no idea where she was going, and no idea where she was–aside from a residential part of town. She’d picked a direction and stuck to it. Everything around her was so much bigger now. The cars, the mailboxes, even the cracks in the sidewalk. She felt those most keenly, as the sensitive pads of her paws pounded against them with every step. If she got turned back, she was going to put a pair of thick, fuzzy socks on and never take them off! When, she corrected herself, when she got turned back. There had to be a way.

Tara paused at the end of the block and looked back for Riley. She didn’t see him yet. In fact, she didn’t see anyone. It was dark out, sure, the middle of the night, but the shadows weren’t as dark as she was used to. Then again, everything beyond like twenty feet looked a little fuzzy, and even with the light of the streetlamps, it felt like she was looking through a weak grayscale filter. 

Tara pushed on, turning right, then left, then left again. Finally, found herself at a T-junction. Directly across the street from her was an iron-wrought fence. That gave her a good idea as to where she was. That was the fence surrounding the cemetery just east of campus. Should she try to go back to her apartment? No, that’s probably the first place Riley would look for her.

As she debated on what to do next, her eyes snagged on a figure walking down the street. At first, Tara was terrified that Riley had found her somehow, but as the figure got closer, she saw that it wasn’t him. 

This guy was taller than Riley, and was wearing long dark pants, an unzipped jacket over a patterned shirt, and a baseball cap. He had a shovel slung over one shoulder, and a grim expression on his face that was partly obscured by his familiar-looking beard and mustache. It was the FBI guy!

Hope soared in Tara’s chest. If she could just find a way to tell him what was going on, maybe he could help her! After quickly checking for cars, she bounded across the street.

\------

Bobby was ready to be home. His body ached from shovelling all that dirt back into the grave and he  _ still _ had five hours before he was home and could have a drink. He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten to refill the flask before he’d left earlier today.

He was almost back to his car when something brown and furry bolted across the street, heading right for him. Bobby brandished the shovel, but it was just a cat. Just a harmless, brown housecat.

“Meow!” Tara stopped right in front of the man. At first, Bobby ignored her, stepping around her, but Tara persisted. She followed him, meowing again. That got Bobby to stop and look at her.

“I don’t have anything for ya. Now go home.” Bobby waved his hand away, but the cat didn’t seem to get the message.

When he started walking again, he heard it following.

“Mrrrow.” Tara tried again, but the man only whirled around, making her jump.

“I said I didn’t have anything for ya!” His voice hurt her ears a bit, “Now scat!” Bobby huffed and waited for the cat to walk back the way it had come, its head hung low, before he turned back this time.

Tara watched carefully, waiting until she saw the agent turn his back, before following him. So a direct approach hadn’t worked. She’d have to follow him back to his hotel or something, wherever he was staying. He’d have to listen then.

The man crossed the road, heading for a row of cars along the side of the street. Most of them seemed to be there for the house that was blasting music.

“Balls!” Bobby exclaimed when he saw all the other cars parked there. They certainly hadn’t been there four hours ago. They’d boxed his Chevelle in pretty good, but he was confident he could get out. At least it looked alright.

Tara watched incredulously as the FBI agent approached the worst-looking car in the row–and that was saying something. She wasn’t sure what color is was, or what color it had started as, but it had clearly seen better days. Was it the agents real car? Was he undercover or something? And what was with the shovel? 

While he was crossing the street, Tara dashed across and hid under a different car. She watched as his feet went around to the back of his car. Something squealed, probably the trunk opening. He rustled around for a bit, but from under the next car, Tara couldn’t see what he was doing. 

Once he got the shovel back where it belonged, Bobby slammed his trunk and went to the front of the car. Tara watched, creeping out from under the car. She might not even have a chance to get in unnoticed, but she had to try. 

Right as Bobby opened his door, the door of the house opened too. A trio of laughing, staggering girls emerged, all dressed in skimpy outfits. The sudden noise pulled Bobby’s attention from the car and he watched the girls stumble down the steps. They were blackout drunk. Even if they happened to glimpse him, they wouldn’t remember.

Tara as moving as soon as Bobby looked up. She didn’t care what caught his attention, this was her shot. She sprinted along the side of the car and leapt in, narrowly missing Bobby’s leg as she did. Once she landed, she spun around, jump up onto the cupholder between the two front seats and into the back.

Bobby’s eyes jerked back to his car at the flash of movement, but nothing was out of place.

“Get it together, Singer.” The three girls had gone the other way down the sidewalk. Bobby got into the car, jammed the key into the ignition, and sped off as soon as he was free from the bad parking jobs of college student. 

Little did he know that Tara had safely stowed away in the backseat.


	2. A New Normal

It wasn’t until Bobby turned onto I-29 going south that Tara started to get nervous. Wasn’t this guy staying in town working the case of the dead frat boys? He couldn’t have wrapped it up this fast. And he’d called himself ‘Singer’, which was _not_ the name he’d given to Professor Morrison. But Tara was along for the ride now, so she might as well get some sleep. With the amount of noise this car made, she was certain she’d wake up when he pulled off the highway. Curling up on one of the seats in the back, trying to ignore the stench of too much fast food, Tara curled up and shut her eyes.

\------

Bobby pulled into Singer Auto Salvage just as the sun began to peek over the horizon. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, but that didn’t stop the sun from turning it a pinkish-red. Birds were singing in the distance when Bobby pulled into the garage and got out. Despite the heat yesterday, the air was cool now. Almost cool enough to encite a shiver.

But Bobby wasn’t paying attention to the sunrise. At first, all he could think about was the Irish coffee waiting for him inside. That is, until something in the backseat caught his eye. Something that didn’t belong. 

A brown ball of fur was curled up on the backseat, and it took Bobby a minute to realize that it was the cat from last night.

“What the hell?” He yanked his door back open and looked over the front seat, just in case the dirty window was playing a mean trick. But it wasn’t, and the sleek brown cat was still there.

Tara was woken rather rudely when a pair of hands picked her up under the shoulders. She squirmed, almost as disoriented as she had been last night when she woke up in the basement. What time was it? Morning, it looked like. Her stomach was also lamenting how long it had been since dinner. She cursed mentally. Why was she still such a deep sleeper as a cat!? Now, she was looking into the eyes of a very pissed off FBI agent.

“How in God’s name did you get into my car?” Bobby demanded, as if he was expecting an answer. Tara meowed at him, getting more and more uncomfortable by the second the longer he held her like this. 

“You a shifter? Skinwalker?” Huh? No, she was human! Tara meowed again and arched her back, kicking her rear legs a little, but her plea to be put down went ignored. Instead, Bobby carried her around the back of the car and popped the trunk.

“Well if you’re either,” Bobby tucked her awkwardly under one arm like a football, “Silver’s gonna give you away.” And that’s when Tara got a view of what was in the trunk. There had to be a whole arsenal in there! She counted at least three handguns, two shotguns, and several different knives. That, along with other, stranger things. A jug of clear liquid with something floating in it, several vials of a darker liquid, several wooden stakes, some spray cans, chalk, and so many other odds and ends that Tara couldn’t take it all in. The whole not-seeing-many-colors thing was seriously starting to annoy her, especially since she couldn’t tell if the liquid in those vials was blood or something else.

The one thing that caught her eye, though, was the symbol drawn on the roof of the trunk. It was a star inside a circle with several smaller symbols in some of the gaps. It looked very similar to the stuff that Riley had had on that altar!

Tara started to struggle and squirm in earnest. This lunatic was no FBI agent! For all she knew, he was working with Riley!

“Now hold up!” Bobby managed to snatch something from a smaller box and readjusted his grip on Tara, “This isn’t going to hurt.” He held what looked like a coin of some sort–a silver one?–in front of her face. There was some engraving on it, but he held it so close that it was too blurry to make out.

“Unless it does.” Bobby muttered as he began to pet the cat gently with the hand holding the coin. Nothing happened. The coin felt a little cold to Tara, but it didn’t hurt her like he said it might. Bobby frowned at the lack of reaction, and rubbed the coin on the cat’s ear just in case. Still, there was nothing.

“Huh.” Bobby reluctantly put the cat down. Tara was glad to be back on her feet, even if the gravel under her paws wasn’t the most comfortable. The agent–no, she couldn’t really call him that anymore–put the coin back in the trunk and shut it. But then, he just stood there a moment, hunched over, hands braced against the car.

“Get it together, Bobby Singer. It’s just a cat.” He finally looked down at Tara, “Come on then, I won’t hurt ya. But don’t you be expecting me to get you your own food. There’s plenty of mice and rats around.” Tara nearly gagged. Any appetite she’d had before was gone. She didn’t want to eat _rodents_. She wanted bacon and eggs! Pancakes! Not a mouse sunny side up.

Bobby trudged back to his house in the early morning light, and Tara followed close behind. She wasn’t quite sure she trusted this guy yet, but since he hadn’t known who she was, it was probably safe to assume he didn’t know Riley. That, and she really didn’t have anywhere else to go. They were probably a long way from Grand Forks and the University of North Dakota.

They were in a repair yard, it looked like. As far as she could see–which admittedly wasn’t very far, everything about twenty feet away was still blurry–there were rows and rows of rusted cars. Some of them were stacked two, three vehicles high. All were in various states of disrepair, and none of them looked fit to be on the road.

It didn’t smell like this place got much traffic either. The sour stench of car exhaust had been hanging in the air on all the streets last night, but here, it was more of an after-smell than anything else.

And it was quiet. Aside from the birdsong and the crunch of gravel under Bobby’s shoes, there was no road noise. A far cry from her apartment at the University, where she always heard the din of the highway.

Soon, they came up to a house that looked to be in about the same shape as the rest of the place. The blue siding was faded and chipped, the deck had a sagging cover over it, and the stairs leading up to the deck creaked and groaned loudly as Bobby ascended them. Overall, it looked like it needed a massive makeover.

“Home sweet home.” Bobby opened the screen door, followed by the actual door. 

Tara followed him inside. It smelled of old books and alcohol, with a touch of gunpowder and greasy food. Off to the right almost immediately was a staircase going up. Just past the staircase was a slightly-open door that led to a bathroom. On the left, the hall opened up into a messy study, complete with a cluttered desk, bookshelves, a fire place, and a sofa. At the end of the hall, there was a foyer of sorts with three closed doors. The one opposite the entry hall, as well as the one on the same wall as the entry hall, were solid wood, but the one on the right wall had curtains hanging in a window. It was the back door.

The left opening of the foyer was where Bobby deposited Tara. It was a kitchen that looked about half a century out of date if the appliances were anything to go by. The walls in here and the foyer, unlike the dark ones in the hall and the study, were painted a light color. Green? Tara couldn’t tell.

Bobby scuttled around the kitchen for a few minutes, getting some coffee going for himself and finding a suitable water bowl for the cat. Although, he cast a sideways glance to where she–at least, he was pretty sure it was a she given the pitch of her meows–was sitting patiently. Her tail was wrapped around her body and rested over her front paws, and her brown eyes were watching his every move.

Odd. Bobby didn’t know how cats were supposed to act, but he was pretty sure this wasn’t it. In fact, the way she’d followed him back to the house without exploring was more typical of what his dog would do. He still hated Meg for killing that beautiful black dog, but with everything going on, maybe having a new animal in the house wasn’t such a bad idea.

Still, he placed the bowl of fresh water down in front of her and she immediately started lapping at it, Bobby wasn’t quite convinced she was a normal cat. He was also sure that he’d have to start calling her something other than ‘cat’.

\------

As it happened, it wasn’t Bobby who gave Tara her first nickname. About a week–or so she figured, as a cat she was starting to lose track of the days–into her stay at Bobby’s, he had a visitor.

That week had been one of the most interesting weeks of her life. Not only had she eaten her first raw rodent, but she’d coughed up her first hairball. _That_ had been disgusting for both her and Bobby. In fact, that was what made Bobby cave when it came to not buying her anything. As soon as he’d scrubbed the mess out of the carpet in the study, he’d made a run into town and purchased anti-hairball cat treats.

Fortunately, there was no need for a litterbox. Tara had figured out how to use the toilet, even as a cat. It had taken Bobby a couple days to figure out why his downstairs toilet was seemingly flushing on its own, but eventually he caught Tara emerging from the bathroom afterwards. That was yet another thing she did that made him suspect that she wasn’t a normal cat. 

For Tara, adapting to life as a cat was easier than she expected. Or maybe that was just her frame of mind talking. The frame of mind of being pretty much stuck in this form until Bobby figured out the truth and how to change her back. Having to catch her meals when she was hungry was probably the worst part of it all; excluding the initial hairball. Otherwise, Tara was quite content to sit and watch Bobby’s daily routine. 

He was an interesting person to say the least. He drank at least as much alcohol as he did water, but never seemed to surfer any ill effects. He knew how to cook, and if the smell was anything to go by, he made a mean chili, but seemed to hate doing it. He also had a plethora of phones lined up in the kitchen, and depending on which one rang, he was a different person with a different government agency. 

That alone was enough to concern Tara, but she always reminded herself that things would undoubtedly be much worse if she’d failed to sneak into his car. And Riley hadn’t shown up either, so that was a plus too.

What really threw her, though, was what Bobby talked about when he was on his cell phone. More often than not, it sounded like he was discussing some sort of fictional world with the number of times he mentioned ghosts, vampires, werewolves, and all sorts of other creatures from legend and myth. But when he got down into the nitty gritty about how to kill them? The silver knife dipped in lamb’s blood was too specific for it to be anything but real. That, topped with the innumerable books that Bobby had around. Most of them weren’t in English, and all were related to ancient religions, legends, and cultures. All mentioned the supernatural.

Tara wasn’t a skeptic, she’d always believed in ghosts, especially with the events of the past six or seven months, but she had yet to see anything supernatural with her own eyes. The more she heard Bobby talk to people on the phone about these things, and the more sneaky she got about peering over his shoulder when he fell asleep reading, the more she found herself wanting to know more. 

Another thing Bobby did every day was call someone named Sam. This Sam person never picked up, but every day, Bobby left him a message. They were all the same to a certain extent. Sam had had a brother, Dean, who had passed away a few months back. Horribly too, if Tara understood the subtext properly. And now Bobby hadn’t heard from him in awhile.

Every day, Bobby would ask Sam to call him. Tell him he was worried about him. Bobby even called him ‘son’ a couple times, but Tara got the sense that they weren’t actually related. Bobby didn’t seem like the father type to her anyway, more like the cool uncle.

The day the visitor arrived was the first time anyone had actually come to the house. It was the early afternoon, and Tara was sleeping in her favorite spot in the house. The sofa in the study was positioned so it got a full dose of afternoon sun, and one thing that had changed about Tara since she became a cat was that she loved sleeping in the sun.

In fact, when she wasn’t up and about, she could almost always be found sitting on the back of the sofa, basking in the sun. She’d explored the upstairs a few times, but down here was where all the interesting stuff happened. She also hadn’t been in the basement yet, as Bobby always waited for her to fall asleep before venturing down there himself.

The only other place Tara liked to fall asleep was on Bobby’s desk. Sometimes, when he fell asleep there, he’d forget to turn off the very nice, warm lamp. If that happened, Tara would hop out and sprawl out under the beam and let it warm her up.

But today, it was sunny, and so she was curled up in a ball on the back of the sofa in the study. Bobby had just gotten done chewing out some sheriff as the CDC when the doorbell rang. When Tara didn’t move, he added that to the list of suspicious things about her. Then he went to the door. 

As soon as he opened it, Bobby broke into a smile, one of the first in months. Standing on the porch was none other than Garth ‘String Bean’ Fitzgerald IV.

“Bobby!” The older hunter opened the screen door and Garth threw his arms around him. As long as he’d known him, Garth had been a hugger. Bobby had always hoped he would grow out of it, but that looked more and more unlikely every time he saw him.

“What are you doin’ here? Law’s not on your tail, I hope.”

“Oh, no. I was just passin’ through and thought I’d come say hi!”

“Well come in, then. I’ll put something on.” Bobby stepped aside and closed the door behind Garth.

“Oh, that’s alright. I’ve got a lead on a case a couple states over, but I wanted to stop by.” His eyes fell on Tara’s sleeping form.

“Who’s this? I didn’t know you had a cat!” 

“Neither did I until she followed me home on a case a couple ‘a weeks ago.” Bobby grumbled.

“That’s so sweet,” Garth grinned, “What’s her name?”

“Uh…” Bobby couldn’t come up with something good right away, and Garth put his hands on his hips.

“Bobby. You’ve had this cat for two weeks and you haven’t named her?”

“No! Well yes, but–”

“Then I guess the honor falls to me.” Garth assessed the brown cat, who was still oblivious to their presence. After a couple minutes of just staring at her, Garth spoke again.

“Ya know, with the way the tip of her tail kinda sticks up in the middle, she kinda looks like a melted Hershey’s kiss. So Imma call her Hershey.” He plopped down on the sofa.

Tara jumped awake when the sofa moved. But the person sitting down wasn’t Bobby. It was a guy so skinny he looked like he’d been put in a taffy stretcher as a kid. 

“Hiya, Hershey.” He extended a hand for her to smell. Hershey? What the heck? But she smelled him anyway. He smelled clean, at least that was the first descriptor that came to mind, but Tara could detect the smell of leather and gunpowder there too. She met and matched his unwavering gaze, and Garth took that as permission to pet her.

“Honestly, Bobby,” Garth said, “How can you not have named her? And Hershey just fits her so well!” He scratched under her chin, and Tara started purring.

Despite what he’d claimed, Garth had actually stuck around for a couple hours before he hit the road again. During that time, he and Bobby had sat in the kitchen discussing life, and Dean. Tara hung on every word they said, even if she didn’t understand (or believe) much of it. If the whole making-demon-deals thing was true, then she wished she’d known about it before now. Even if the end result was a horrific death and getting dragged to hell.

Before Garth left, while Bobby was begrudgingly dumping some leftovers into a Tupperware container for him, the younger hunter sat down on the sofa again with Tara.

“Now, Hershey.” Garth was scratching her chin again, “I know most everyone thinks I got more air in my head than brains. But I notice things that they don’t, and you were droppin’ eaves on my conversation with Bobby.” Tara felt her heart start to pound, “Something tells me you can understand every word I’m sayin’ now.” She maintained eye contact, trying to convey that yes, she did under stand him!

“Now, I think you’re good for Bobby,” Garth continued quietly, “Whether he admits it or not he’s not having a good time. So for the moment I’m gonna let it slide, just so long as you promise not to hurt him.” He drew back his hand and held it out.

“Shake on it?” Tara narrowed her eyes a bit at Garth. She didn’t know a thing about him, and he seemed harmless enough. But then again, Riley had too at the beginning. Nevertheless, her main goal here was to make them realize she was human, so she sat up a bit, and placed her right paw in Garth’s hand.

A huge grin crossed his face and he shook it, careful not to squeeze her paw too much.

“See you soon, Hershey!”

After that, instead of just calling her ‘cat’, Bobby used the name Hershey. Tara didn’t mind it, it actually made her feel special to have a nickname, even though it wasn’t intended as one.

\------

The next couple weeks passed without much happening beyond the routine. Bobby continued to pretend to be from several different federal agencies, pour over musty old books, and talk about killing mythical creatures with people on his cell. And, of course, he kept consuming alcohol faster than Tara would have thought possible, and still left Sam a message every day. The only thing of note that happened was that Tara caught herself her first bird. She’d been so proud of the kill, having spent so long mastering the art of sneaking. Gollum would be proud.

Then, one lazy morning in September–mid September if Tara’s loose sense of time still served her well–everything changed. The day started out normal enough. Bobby had coffee in his whiskey, took a couple calls, and read in the time between. Around the time when Tara started thinking about finding something for second breakfast, Bobby’s cell rang.

“Yeah?” Tara couldn’t hear the voice on the other end of the line, but she perked up anyway.

“Yeah?” He said again, “Me?” There was another pause, and then Bobby hung up. But before Bobby could made a snide comment about telemarketers, the phone rang again.

“Who is this?” Aside from when he was chewing some sheriff out, Tara had never heard him get so hostile, “This ain't funny. Call again, and I’ll kill you.” He hung up again, but instead of turning back to his book, Bobby picked up the mostly-empty bottle of Jack sitting on the desk and drank straight from it.

Tara stood up and stretched before hopping off the sofa. She had no idea who had called, or why Bobby was so upset, but the least she could do was try to make him feel better.

She rubbed up against Bobby’s leg, scratching her face on the rough denim of his jeans. Bobby put the bottle of Jack down with a _thunk_ and reached down for her. He picked her up gently and set her down on top of the book he had open.

The brown cat was quick to lay down and situate herself, careful not to wrinkle or tear the delicate pages. She was purring before Bobby started petting her with one hand, and continued taking large sips from the bottle of Jack with the other.

Eventually, Bobby finished the bottle and decided it was time to continue reading.

“Alright, Hershey. Up ya get.” She hopped down from the desk without a fuss, and went to catch herself something. Mice in the vicinity of the house had been growing more scarce, but the next best place to look was the garage. Tara didn’t want to leave Bobby on his own for long, so instead of poking around the house for a bit, she went straight there.

After catching herself a large rodent, she made her way back to the house with it in her mouth and ate it on the porch. It was an unspoken rule that she ate her kills out here, even if she caught them inside.

When she was full, Tara pushed the bones off the porch and scratched at the door. Getting out of the house was no problem; there was a little table that sat on the right side of the door and standing on it, she could reach and turn the handle. However, there was no such furniture on the porch, so she had to wait for Bobby. He was quick to open the door, and after meowing her thanks, she trotted over to the water bowl.

\------

A few hours later, Bobby heard a car pull up outside. Hershey was asleep on the sofa, as she normally was this time in the afternoon, and just like when Garth visited, she didn’t wake up. But this time, Bobby was on edge. After those calls this morning, he was angry with the world for dredging up Dean like that and he wasn’t expecting anyone. He headed to the door to head them off, but before he even got there, someone knocked.

Tara jerked awake at the pounding noise. The first thing she noticed was that Bobby wasn’t at his desk, but the front door. He opened it, but didn't react outwardly to the person on the other side. Tara couldn't see who it was from this angle. She was just about to get up when the unknown person spoke up.

“Surprise.” It was a male voice, not Garth.

“I don’t–”

“Yeah, me neither….but here I am.” At first Bobby didn’t respond, and Tara could see him reaching for a knife on the table behind him. Then there was a huge commotion as Bobby took a swing at the person. The other man fought back, and the two of them were a blur as they went crashing down the entry hall. Tara leapt to the floor and ran to follow, but skidded to a halt when she saw Bobby locked on combat with the other man in te foyer. Taller and younger than him, this guy should’ve had the advantage, but Bobby had a knife and managed to clock him hard enough to knock him into the kitchen. Tara ran back to the study, trying to see but not be seen. The uninvited guest put a chair between himself and Bobby.

“Bobby! It’s me!”

“My ass.”

“W-w-wait! Your name is Robert Steven Singer, you became a hunter after your wife got possessed, you’re about the closest thing I have to a father.” Was this Sam? Tara didn’t know of anyone else who would refer to Bobby like that. Then again, she didn’t know he’d ever been married either.

“Bobby, it’s me.” The man said again in a softer voice, and he slowly straightened up. Bobby staggered forward, knocking the chair away. At first, when Bobby put a shaking hand on his shoulder, Tara thought they were going to hug, but then he took a swing with the knife. The man yelped, and then ducked under the blade.

“I’m not a shapeshifter!”

“Then you’re a revenant!” The other man managed to get the knife away from Bobby and shove him away. Tara crouched, ready to attack and buy Bobby a few seconds. She wasn’t sure what good she could do, but her claws were sharp and that had to count for something.

But the other man didn’t attack.

“Alright, if I was either, could I do this with a silver knife?” He rolled up his sleeve and turned the blade on himself, cutting his arm just above the elbow. He grunted, but the metal didn’t burn him. For a tense moment of silence, he waited for Bobby to react.

“Dean?” Tara’s jaw, even as a cat, dropped. Dead Dean? In-hell Dean? It couldn’t be–!

“I’ve been tryin’ to tell you.” Dean was out of breath. Bobby’s breathing was getting heavier now, and this time he threw his arms around Dean. Dean returned the hug, and all seemed to be ok, but Tara saw Bobby’s left hand reaching for an open bottle sitting on the counter.

“It’s good to see ya, boy.” 

“Yeah, you too.”

“But...how did you bust out?” So this _was_ the Dean that went to hell!

“I don’t know. I just, uh,” He turned away from Bobby, and the older hunter moved faster than a mousetrap, “I just woke up in a pine box–” Dean was cut off by the splash of water to the face. He looked a little exasperated, and spat to the side.

“I’m not a demon either, you know.” So that had been holy water, then.

“Sorry, can’t be too careful.” That’s when Dean’s eyes found the cat. The brown cat peering around the doorway of the study.

“When did you get a cat?” He asked, lifting his shirt to cover his nose and mouth.

“Oh, yeah. Dean, this is Hershey. Hershey, Dean.” Tara came out and approached Dean. Already, she could smell dirt and sweat radiating off him, accented with the coppery tang of blood. But as soon as she moved, Dean was backing up.

“Hey, hey, hey! Bobby, grab it!”

“Hershey, leave him be.” Tara immediately turned back around and retreated to the study. Dean just gawked at the cat as she did exactly as Bobby asked.

“How long did it take you to train that thing?”

“I didn’t. But she’s been here about a month.”

“In the house?” Bobby nodded, “Then how come I’m not sneezing up a storm?” Dean didn’t take his eyes off Hershey.

“Add that to the list of things that don’t make a lick of sense about her.” Bobby glanced back at her too.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s not important right now. I tested her with silver, had her drink holy water, near as I can tell she’s just a very smart cat. Right Hershey?” Tara meowed.

“Ok, _that’s_ not normal.” Dean jabbed a finger in her direction.

“Well before you go all crazy on my cat, how ‘bout you tell me how you got outta hell?”

So Dean explained it as best he could and both Tara and Bobby listened with rapt attention. Tara didn’t understand much of what Dean was saying. Then again, she didn’t know how someone could come back from the dead in the first place. While Dean recounted the events of his day, Bobby gave him a glass of normal water and a towel to wipe his face.

“That don’t make a lick a sense.” He said when Dean finished.

“Yeah, you’re preaching to the choir.” They came into the study, and on his way to the desk, Bobby gave Hershey a quick scratch behind the ear.

“Dean, your chest was ribbons, your insides were slop, and you’ve been buried _four months_. Even if you could slip outta hell and back into your meatsuit–”

“I know. I should look like a Thriller video reject.”

“What do you remember?”

“Not much. I remember I was a hellhound’s chew toy. Then...lights out. And then I come to six feet under.” Bobby sat down and beckoned Tara over to him. She obeyed, but was careful to avoid brushing against Dean. If he had been in hell, even if he didn’t remember anything, then maybe…

Tara shook her mind off that train of thought and hopped onto Bobby’s lap. She much preferred the desk, but Dean seemed to be more comfortable when he couldn’t see her.

“Sam’s number’s not working. He’s...uh, he’s not–”

“He’s alive, s’far as I know.” And Bobby still left him a message every day.

“Good.” Dean let out a shaky breath and came around the side of the desk. He looked down at Hershey, and she didn’t hesitate to meet his gaze.

“Wait.” Dean shook himself free of those intelligent brown eyes, “What do you mean as far as you know?”

“I haven’t talked to him for months.”

“You’re kidding! You just let him go off by himself?” Bobby lifted Hershey onto the desk and stood up again.

“He was dead-set on it.”

“Bobby, you shoulda been lookin’ after him!”

“Meow!” Dean didn’t like the way Hershey was looking at him. Too accusatory.

“I tried! These last months haven’t been exactly easy, for him or me. We had to _bury_ you. If it weren’t for Hershey–”

“Why did you bury me anyway?”

“I wanted you salted and burned, usual drill, but Sam wouldn’t have it.”

“Well, I’m glad he won that one.”

“He said you’d need a body when he got you back home somehow.” Tara’s breath was coming a bit faster now. Was that even possible? After four months? She needed to talk to this Sam guy, “That’s about all he said.”

“What do you mean?”

“He was quiet.” Bobby sat on the desk a bit, “Real quiet. Then, he just took off, wouldn’t return my calls. I tried to find him, but he don’t wanna be found.”

“Oh, damn it, Sammy.” Dean covered his face.

“What?”

“Oh, he got me home ok. But whatever he did is bad mojo.”

“What makes you so sure?” As Dean started to pace, Bobby began to pet Hershey. It seemed to be his way of trying to stay calm.

“You should’ve seen the grave site, it was like a nuke went off. And then there was this...force, this presence, and it...I don’t know. But it blew past me as a fill-up joint. And then this.” Dean shrugged off his jacket, and Tara couldn’t help but rake her eyes over his broad shoulders and strong arms. Dean pulled up one sleeve, revealing a burn in the shape of a large handprint. Bobby shoved off the desk, his eyes fixed on the mark.

“What in the hell?”

“Yeah, it’s like a demon just yanked me out, or rode me out.”

“But why?”

“To hold up their end of the bargain.” Dean fixed his sleeve.

“You think Sam made a deal?”

“It’s what I would have done.” Bobby sighed.

“Then I guess we’d better find him. Any ideas?”


	3. The Winchesters

Ten minutes later, Dean had Sam’s new number and was on the phone with the phone company. Tara had followed them into the kitchen, and was pretending to not pay attention.

“Yeah, hi. I have a, uh cellphone account with you guys and, um...I lost my phone. I was wondering if you could turn the GPS on for me. Yeah, the name’s Wedge Antillies.” Tara choked on the water in her mouth and coughed a couple times.

“Don’t you go hacking up a hairball on me, Hershey!” Bobby grabbed her treats off the counter and tossed her a few.

“Social is 2474.” Dean was giving Hershey an odd look, which she pointedly ignored. All the while, she prayed that the people on the other end would just hurry it up.

“Thank you.” He said finally, and put the phone down. He and Bobby headed for the study, and Tara was quick to follow them, licking the last ghosts of flavor off her chops.

“How’d you know he’d use that name?”

“Are you kidding?” Dean sat down at the desk in the study and started typing on the rarely used computer, “What don’t I know about that kid?” Tara hopped up so she could see the screen. Dean jumped and shied away when the brown furball landed on the corner of the desk, but begrudgingly let her stay. If she was going to make him sneeze his brains out, it would’ve happened by now.

“Hey, Bobby?” He picked up one of the many empty bottles of Jack, “What’s with the liquor store, hmm? Hershey have a drinking problem? Your parents out of town or something?”

“Like I said. These last few months ain’t been all that easy.”

“Right.” Tara couldn’t tell if Dean was being judgemental or sympathetic. He currently had a great poker face on.

“I mean, Hershey’s made it a little easier, but–”

“Yeah, about her–” The computer’s beep cut Dean off. The screen had zoomed in on an area in Pontiac, Illinois, and had a specific address displayed. Dean sat back in the chair.

“Sam’s in Pontiac, Illinois.”

“Right near where you were planted.”

“Right where I popped up. Hell of coincidence, don’t you think?” 

“Let’s go, then.” Bobby straightened up and Tara hopped down from the desk.

“Oh, no.” Dean pointed at her, “The cat’s not coming.” Bobby crossed his arms.

“It’s my car, and according to your own rules, the driver is the dictator. So _I_ say Hershey can come.

“Meow!” Tara purred, twined around Bobby’s legs and ran off to use the bathroom before the long drive.

\------

Dean was totally baffled by Bobby’s new housemate. Hershey. How the hell had Bobby come up with that name anyway? He looked into the backseat where the brown cat was snoozing in the sun as they sped down the highway. That cat was anything _but_ normal. 

“So tell me about that cat.” He demanded, turning the music down, “What do you know about her?”

“Not much. She followed me home from a job, ‘bout a month back. Vengeful spirit killing frat boys up at the University of North Dakota. Easiest damn job I’ve ever worked.”

“Ok.”

“On my way back to my car, from the cemetery, she comes up to me, meowing up a storm. No collar, no owner in sight. I thought I got her to scat, but somehow she slipped in here. Didn’t know until I got back here and there she was.” Bobby glanced in the rearview mirror, “Right about where she is now.”

“You said you had a list of things about her that don’t make sense.”

“Right. I’m sure you’ve noticed, she’s beyond smart for a cat. Seems to understand conversations, even know her name as soon as...I picked it.” Bobby carefully omitted the fact that Garth had named her, even if Dean had no idea who he was.

“I see why.” Dean glanced back again. Hershey was curled into a tight ball, but her tail was so long that the tip stuck up, right around the middle, “She looked like a Hershey’s kiss that got left in the sun.” Bobby snorted.

“Anyway, that’s not all. She knows how to open the front door _and_ how to use a toilet. Odd thing is, someone who puts that much effort into training their cat would’ve put at least some effort into finding her. I’ve been keeping an eye on the area, but nothing about a missing brown cat.”

“You sure she’s not a skinwalker?”

“Like I said, I tested her with silver. I’ve put in some research too, looking for other creatures that can turn into cats. Mostly Egyptian gods, but I always tested her when she was asleep, but nothing stuck. That’s another thing too. She’s a pretty deep sleeper. Didn’t wake up when someone rang the doorbell a couple weeks back. And I’ve _never_ heard of a cat who likes getting a belly rub.” Hershey suddenly sneezed, waking herself up. 

Bobby was quick to change the subject, but the enigma in the backseat remained in the back of Dean’s mind for the rest of the drive.

\------

It was midnight by the time they pulled up outside the Astoria Hotel in Pontiac. Bobby parked across the street and Tara hopped out behind him.

“Not sure how they’re gonna feel about you coming in, Hershey. Wait til we have the desk guy distracted.” While they rushed into the hotel, Tara loitered by the entrance, pretending to sniff something on the ground. In truth, she was trying _not_ to smell anything. The city was full of so many more scents than Bobby’s place, or even the town by UND, and most of them were nasty. The car exhaust and the cigarette smoke just to name a couple. But secretly, she kept an eye on the slightly blurry forms of Dean and Bobby. They seemed to have come to a stop at the front desk, so Tara darted in through the automatic door.

“We’re looking for a guy.” Bobby was saying, “Tall, dark hair. He check in here recently?” Dean slid a couple bills across the desk.

“Yeah.” The man working the desk discreetly tucked them into his pocket, “Room 207.”

As Dean and Bobby headed for the elevator, they were both glancing back, looking for Hershey. She was nowhere to be found.

“Balls.” Bobby muttered as Dean pushed the button.

The elevator dinged open, and that’s when Tara made her move. Dashing out from behind a fake potted plant and across the polished floor, she made it into the elevator before either of them could push the button for the second floor.

Dean jumped when she suddenly appeared, and glared when Bobby chuckled.

“Shaddup.”

When they arrived on the second floor, Tara kept pace with Bobby and Dean right up to the door at the end of the hall. Then, at Bobby’s signal, stepped to the side, out of sight of the doorway. 

“I swear, that cat is so not normal.” Dean muttered, and pounded on the door. It opened almost immediately.

“So where is it?” A female voice asked from the doorway. Tara couldn’t see her, but she _did_ see the look that Dean and Bobby exchanged.

“Where’s what?”

“The pizza. That takes two guys to deliver?”

“I think we got the wrong room.”

“Hey,” Another voice came from inside the room. That had to be Sam, “Is–” Tara watched Dean’s eyes move from the person in the doorway to someone much taller. Everything was silent for a few moments, and Tara wanted nothing more than to peek around and see Sam’s reaction. But that was out of the question. Instead, she settled for watching Dean.

“Heyya, Sammy.”

At first, everything looked like it was going to be fine. Dean stepped forward, into the room and out of sight. Tara was waiting to hear the heavy breathing inside turn into a hug, sobs, laughter, anything but a shout. Tara flinched at the noise, and then again when something big slammed against the other side of the wall she’d pressed herself against.

Bobby sprang into action at this point, she assumed, trying to pull them away from each other.

“Who are you?!” Sam shouted.

“Like you didn’t do this!” Dean yelled back.

“Do what?!”

“It’s him.” Bobby interjected, “It’s him, Sam. I’ve been through this already. It’s _really_ him.”

“But…” The sounds of fighting died down until only panting remained.

“I know. I look fantastic, huh?” Wow, did Dean know how to lay on the attitude. Tara risked a small peek around the corner just in time to see someone even taller than Dean throw their arms around him. She pulled back quickly when she realized that the woman was still standing against the door. Fortunately, she didn’t seem to notice Tara. She pulled her head back just in case.

“So are you two like...together?”

“What? No.”

“No.”

“He’s my brother.” Sam explained.

“U-oh. Got it...I guess. Look, I should… probably go.”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s probably a good idea, sorry.”

Before Tara could react, the door closed in her face. Great. Bobby and Dean would remember that she was out here, right? At least, hopefully Bobby would.

Tara waited for a few minutes, grooming herself trying to get her fur to go the right way. It was a little ruffled from the long car ride. She was thinking about scratching the door when it opened on its own. A woman emerged, wearing a shirt that had one too many buttons undone and whose hair was a few shades darker than Tara’s.

“So, call me.” She turned around.

“Yeah. Yeah, sure thing Kathy.”

“Christie.” She said, dejected.

“Right.” But Sam didn’t correct himself. The girl–Christie–turned and walked away. She turned to the left, turning her back to Tara entirely and missing her in the shadows. But as she left, Tara caught a whiff of something nasty coming off her. It wasn’t just a lack of deodorant or too much perfume. It was something far worse. What was it?

She shook herself out of it right as Sam was closing the door, so she took the window and darted past him, her tail barely avoiding getting caught.

“Woah!” Sam jumped at the blur of movement, “What the–?” He watched in confusion as the brown cat crossed right to Bobby and hopped up on the sofa next to him.

“Sam, this is Hershey. My new sidekick.”

“Hold on, since when do you have a sidekick?” He sat down on the bed.

“We’re the ones asking the questions here.”

“So tell me,” Dean had his arms crossed, “What’d it cost?”

“The girl?” Sam gave an amused huff, “I don’t pay, Dean.” And Tara had to admit that she could see why. Either one of these guys was a serious catch. Sam was just as well-built as Dean, with broad shoulders that strained his white shirt, narrow hips, and long legs. Then again, everyone looked tall and long-legged to Tara as a cat, but Sam still looked taller than most.

“That’s not funny, Sam. To bring me back. Was it your soul or was it something worse?”

“You think I made a deal?”

“That’s exactly what we think.” Bobby’s voice was barbed.

“Well I didn’t.”

“Don’t lie to me.” Sam stopped fiddling with his sock and actually looked Dean in the eyes.

“I’m not lying.”

“So what now? I’m off the hook and you’re on, is that it?” Not with the raised voices again. Tara didn’t want to get a headache and not be able to take something for it, “You’re some demon’s bitch boy? I didn’t want to be saved like this!” Sam surged to his feet.

“Look, Dean. I wish I’d done it, alright?”

“There’s no other way this coulda gone down!” Dean grabbed Sam by the collar, “Now tell the truth!”

“I tried everything, that’s the truth!” Sam batted Dean’s hands off him, “I tried opening the Devil’s Gate. Hell, I tried to bargain, Dean, but no demon would deal, all right!” When Dean didn’t have a fast comeback, Sam went on.

“You were rotting in hell, for months. For _months_. And I couldn’t stop it. So I’m sorry, it wasn’t me. All right?” He’d lowered his volume, but his shoulders were still heaving, “Dean, I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok, Sammy. You don’t have to apologize. I believe you.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Bobby said, “I’m gladdened that Sam’s soul remains intact, but it does raise a sticky question.”

“If he didn’t pull me out then what did?”

As it happened, Sam _had_ ordered pizza, it was just taking a long time to get delivered. Probably because they’d ordered it so late at night. But the others were content to wait, so Tara ignored her growling stomach. While Sam pulled out some beers, Bobby picked a martini glass out of the fancy cupboard and filled it with water for her. After drinking her fill, Tara settled in on the sofa between Bobby and Dean. The latter looked a little uncomfortable that she was partially laying on him, but tolerated it.

“So what were you doing around here if you weren’t digging me out of my grave?” Dean accepted a beer from Sam, who sat on the sofa opposite them.

“Well, once I figured out I couldn’t save you, um, I started hunting down Lilith. Trying to get some payback.”

“All by yourself?” With the hand that wasn’t holding his beer, Bobby reached up and started petting her, “Who do you think you are? Your old man?” Sam didn’t have much of an answer.

“Uh, yeah. I’m sorry Bobby.” Tara rolled over, wanting her belly rubbed, and started purring. Her movement was seemingly too much for Dean. He hopped up and sat next to Sam. The younger Winchester gave an amused exhale at the exchange, but didn’t comment on it.

“I–I should have called, I was pretty messed up.”

“Oh yeah.” Dean had picked up a light-toned and black lace bra, “I really feel your pain.” That bra clearly didn’t belong to the girl who had just left–it was too big.

“Anyways, uh, I was checking these demons out in Tennessee, and out of nowhere, they took a hard left. Booked up here.”

“When.”

“Yesterday morning.” Well, yesterday at this point, even if none of them had slept properly. Except Tara. Cats slept more, it was true, but she couldn’t fathom how these guys ran on so little sleep.

“When I busted out.”

“You think these demons are here ‘cause of you?” Tara opened her eyes (when had she closed them?) at the silence. Sam’s eyes flicked over to the cat–Hershey–when her loud purring faltered.

“But why?” He shook his attention away from Hershey.

“Well, I don’t know. Some badass demon drags me out and now this? It’s gotta be connected somehow.”

“How you feeling anyway?” Dean shrugged.

“I’m a little hungry.” He wasn’t the only one.

“No, I mean, do you feel like yourself? Anything strange or different–”

“Or demonic?” Dean cut him off, “Bobby, how many times do I have to prove I’m me?”

“Yeah, well listen. No demon’s letting you loose out of the goodness of their hearts. They gotta have somethin’ nasty planned.”

“Well I feel fine.” Dean took a long drink from his beer.

“Ok, look. We don’t know what they’re planning, but we’ve got a pile of questions and no shovel.” Sam stopped the argument before it got going, “We need help.” Yeah, and they weren’t the only ones. Bobby stopped rubbing her belly and shook his hand a bit, sending tufts of shedded fur flying.

“I know a psychic. A few hours from here. Something this big, maybe she’s heard the other side talking.”

“Hell yeah, it’s worth a shot.”

“I’ll be right back.” Bobby got up, “Hershey you wanna come with a catch something or do you want some of the meat off the pizza?” Tara didn’t move from her spot on the sofa, instead giving Bobby her biggest, pleading look.

“Alright.”

“Smart cat.” Sam murmured, watching her closely.

“Yeah, too smart.” Dean responded, but Sam ignored him for the moment. 

“Wait, Bobby, how did you know the pizza had meat on it?” Bobby laughed.

“Are you kidding? I may not know you as well as your brother, but I sure as hell know what you like on your pizza.” He left the room. Dean got up to leave as well, but Sam stopped him.

“Hey, wait.” He pulled a dark cord from under his shirt, “You probably want this back.” Attached to it was a light colored pendant of some sort. The one thing that Tara hated most about being a cat was not being able to see colors the same way. Dean accepted the necklace, and spent a moment examining the pendant.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” He put it on. Sam glanced at Hershey, hesitating a bit with his next question.

“Hey Dean, what was it like?”

“What? Hell?” Any joy vanished from Dean’s face, “I don’t know, I–I musta blacked it out. I don’t remember a damn thing.” Sam clenched his jaw and swallowed, trying to decide if he could believe his brother. Eventually, he decided that he could.

“Thank God for that.”

“Yeah.”

Soon, Bobby was back from moving his car into the hotel’s parking lot and the pizza was there. Tara’s mouth watered as soon as the door open and the smell wafted in. It had seriously been too long since she’d had pizza. Sam paid the man and put the two boxes on the coffee table.

Tara sat and waited patiently as Bobby picked the sausage off the sausage-pepperoni from the first box. The second one was just plain cheese. Never in a million years would she have imagined that she’d want a dead mouse over pizza. The sausage bits were too spicy for her taste, and the texture of the ground meat sat funny on her tongue. But she ate it anyway.

“So Bobby, you never explained.” Sam gestured to her, “Where’d the cat come from?”

Bobby told Sam the same story he’d told Dean, minus his suspicions about Hershey being more than just a cat. From the way Sam kept glancing at her, he suspected as much already.

“And you just decided to bring her on the, what, eight hour drive here from your place?” He said when Bobby finished.

“She seemed dead set on coming.” Bobby shrugged, “I didn’t see the harm in it.” Tara stood up, her plate empty of sausage bits, and stretched. She was eyeing some of the crust that Sam had left sitting in favor of his beer. It was a small enough piece, she could probably wolf it down in one bite.

“And she doesn’t make you sneeze, Dean?” Sam looked over at his brother, and Tara seized the opening. She leapt from the sofa, onto the table, and snatched up the piece of crust.

“Hey!” Sam protested, but it was too late. Tara bolted across the room, where she proceeded to eat the crust in smaller bites. Apparently, cat teeth weren’t that good for eating pizza crust.

“Wh–” He watched, open-mouthed as Hershey swallowed the last bit of crust, then proceeded to almost smirk at him. Dean laughed.

“Good one, Hershey!”

“I thought you didn’t like cats.” Sam grumbled.

“She’s growing on me.” Dean admitted, “From a distance. And nope, no sneezing.” Tara came trotting back over and hopped back up next to Bobby. He offered her the crust of the piece he’d just finished, and Tara happily accepted it.

“Huh.” As soon as they figured out the mystery surrounding Dean, Sam was going to do some research into cats like Hershey.

\------

The three hunters decided to get a couple hours of sleep before making the drive down to this psychic. No use getting there at the buttcrack of dawn if she wasn’t up yet, Bobby insisted. And since neither he nor Dean had any interest in sleeping on the same sheets that Sam had had sex on, they each took a sofa. At first, Tara tried to content herself with sleeping on the back of the sofa too, but she couldn’t get comfortable. This sofa wasn’t anything like the one at Bobby’s. The material was scratchy, and a little oily at that, plus the pillows weren’t wide enough for her to curl up on. 

Long after the others had passed out and started to snore–much to her chagrin–Tara found herself still awake. And her eyes kept drifting towards the king bed. Sam was dead to the world, and it certainly looked more comfortable than her current arrangement. 

Tara stood up, careful to not disturb Bobby, and hopped down to the armrest, and then to the floor. Her paws made little _thunks_ on the dark wood, but not enough to make anyone stir. She padded over to the bed, peered up to make sure she wouldn’t land on Sam, and jumped up.

Even sleeping, Sam felt the mattress shift near his feet, and in an instant, he was wide awake with the gun from under his pillow pointed at the offender. Hershey. Tara froze when she saw the gun aimed at her.

“Shit!” Sam whispered, “Sorry, Hershey.” He slipped the gun back under his pillow and reached towards her with an open palm.

‘It’s ok, come here.” Tara sniffed his fingers. The strongest smell coming from them was pizza, but underneath that she was getting hints of old books, leather, and a gentle cologne. She took a cautious step towards him, and Sam patted the pillow next to him.

“Come here.” She was about to lay down on it when the smell got to her. It stank just like that girl from earlier. Tara recoiled, and retreated back to the foot of the bed, despite Sam’s quiet protests. There, she laid down on the blueish jacket. It was still comfortable, and on top of that didn’t carry the same stench at the pillow. 

Sam watched as she laid down on his jacket and closed her eyes. He was a little disappointed; animals usually liked him well enough. He grabbed the pillow she’d rejected, smelled it, and immediately realized that it was the smell of sulfur that Hershey hadn’t liked.

Damn.

As long as Hershey was around, he was going to have to be very careful about spending time with Ruby in the future.


	4. More Than A Cat

Tara followed Bobby, Sam, and Dean as they headed to the parking lot behind the hotel. It was still pitch black out, but she could sense that dawn wasn’t more than a couple hours away.

“She’s about four hours down the interstate.” Bobby was saying, “Try to keep up?” He opened his door, but then noticed that Hershey was watching Sam and Dean go over to the Impala. In truth, Tara was dreading another four hours in Bobby’s car. Not because she didn’t want to be around him, but because of the smell. It wasn’t his fault that the cloth seats absorbed every smell they’d come in contact with, but it was a little too much right now.

“You wanna try and ride with them, go ahead, but Dean’s car is his baby.” Tara watched as Sam tossed the keys to his brother. 

“I assume you’ll want to drive.” The car was as black as the sky, but it was shinny and clean. Hopefully an indication of the inside too. She bounded over to them.

“I almost forgot!” Sam noticed her coming, but Dean was too busy raking his eyes up and down the car’s body, “Hey Sweetheart, did you miss me?” The driver’s door creaked as it opened and Dean got in. While he was marvelling over how it felt to be back in his beloved car, Sam let Hershey into the backseat.

As soon as Tara hopped in, she was mentally patting herself on the back for her decision. The floor was clean, and the seats were made of very nice, black leather. In fact, that was the only smell she was getting from the car–leather. The same hint she’d gotten when she’d smelled Sam’s hand.

Meanwhile, Sam got into the front seat.

“What the hell is that?” Tara wanted to hop onto the bench and peer over the top, but she had a feeling Dean would kick her out if he saw her.

“That’s an iPod jack.”

“You were supposed to take care of her, not douche her up.” So Dean was a tad old fashioned then.

“Dean, I thought it was my car.”

“Nenene.” Dean mocked as he turned the key in the ignition. Music blared over the speakers. It was a song that Tara didn’t recognize, which was saying something. She didn’t have a particular taste in music, she tended to listen to whatever was popular or on the radio at the time. Apparently, the elder Winchester had a different opinion.

“Really?” Sam didn’t respond verbally, he just shrugged. Fortunately for Tara’s ears, the music cut off abruptly and something flew into the backseat. It was the iPod jack, with the iPod still attached and everything.

Then, Dean put the car in gear and sped out of the parking lot after Bobby.

\------

Sam glanced in the rearview mirror every few minutes, keeping an eye on Hershey. Once they’d gotten out of Pontiac and the streetlights were dimmer and farther between, she’d hopped up on the backseat and curled up by the left side door. But she didn’t go to sleep right away. For awhile, she just laid there, a little bundle of fur, barely visible in the shadows. Her eyes reflected what little light there was, much like how a shifter’s eyes flared at a camera.

She wasn’t a shifter, Bobby had filled him in during the precious moments that Hershey had been in the bathroom before they left, but it seemed that all three of them had come to the same conclusion on their own: there was more to this cat than what met the eye.

With that in mind, Sam waited until her eyes closed before he spoke up.

“No music?”

“Nope. There’s still one thing that’s bothering me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. The night that I bit it, or got bit, how’d make it out? I thought Lilith was gonna kill you.”

“Well, she tried. She couldn’t.” Out of all the conversations he could’ve started with that lame question, this was the worst.

“What do you mean, ‘she couldn’t’?”

“She fired this, like, burning light at me, and...it didn’t leave a scratch. Like I was immune or something.”

“Immune?”

“Yeah. I dunno who was more surprised–her or me. She left pretty fast after that.” He glanced in the rearview, but Hershey was still asleep. What he didn’t see, as soon as he looked back at his lap, was the cat’s eyes cracking open. 

“Huh. What about Ruby?” Sam winced internally, “Where is she?”

“Dead, or in hell.”

“So, you been using your, uh, freaky ESP stuff?”

“No.” 

“Sure about that?” Already, annoyance was starting to prickle under Sam’s skin, “Ah, well, I mean now that you’ve got immunity, whatever the hell that is, I was just wondering what other kind of weirdo crap you got going on.”

“Nothing, Dean.” He struggled to keep his temper and voice down, “Look, you didn’t want me to go down that road, so I didn’t go down that road, it was practically your dying wish.”

“Yeah, well let’s keep it that way.” What ESP stuff was Dean talking about? Tara had never even heard Bobby mention it to himself. Maybe–

Sam glanced at her through the rearview again, and this time, Tara was too slow in closing her eyes. He froze when he saw those two beams of reflected light looking right back at him through his reflection, and gulped. Whatever Hershey was, she was crafty.

Tara let herself actually fall asleep after that. Once Sam caught her eavesdropping, she was pretty sure he wouldn’t be so eager to say anything else interesting while she was around.

\------

The next time Tara woke up, sunlight was streaming through the window and the car had slowed down. She stood up on the seat, stretching her front legs and then her back legs, careful not to let her claws damage the nice leather. Looking around, she saw that they were in a residential neighborhood.

“What the–” Dean’s loud exclamation startled Sam awake, “Hershey!” He was glaring at her through the rearview.

“She followed us over.” Sam said, “I figured you wouldn’t mind–”

“You know the rule, Sam! It’s practically Rule Number One of Baby!”

“That’s no dogs in the car, Dean. Hershey is a cat.” He was doing a bad job at hiding a smirk.

“You–no animals, Sam! None.”

“Mewww.” Hershey was sitting in the middle of the bench, her head hung low. Dean would never admit that this wasn’t the start of him going soft on her.

“Ok. Maybe Hershey’s the one exception. But as soon as she does something, she gets a lifetime ban!” 

In front of them, Bobby pulled over in front of one of the many houses. Dean followed suit, parking right behind him. Sam and Dean both got out, their door creaking in perfect unison, and then Dean let Hershey out. She landed lightly on the curb and twined around Dean’s legs.

“Yeah, yeah. Alright.” He bent down and gave her a scratch behind the ear, “You’re growin’ on me. Come on.”

Tara followed the three hunters up to the white house. Her stomach didn’t agree with her decision, but she could catch a mouse later. It wasn’t like she’d have to go far. Just like Bobby’s place, this house could use an extra coat of paint, but the steps leading up to the porch were made of cement. The door opened almost before Bobby finished knocking, and the woman on the other side was already laughing.

“Bobby!” She was shorter than Bobby and thin as a stick. Her dark hair fell in curls and she was wearing jeans and a tight dark shirt that didn’t quite go all the way down, displaying her tanned skin. She pulled Bobby into a tight hug, and even lifted him an inch or so off the ground.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes.” She pulled back and turned to Sam and Dean.

“So, are these the boys?”

“Sam, Dean: Pamela Barnes. Best damn psychic in the state.” Even from this angle, Tara could see Pamela’s eyes looking both of them up and down.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“Mmm, mmm, mmm. Dean Winchester. Out of the fire and back in the frying pan, huh? Makes you a rare individual.” 

“If you say so.” Dean flirted back. Then Pamela looked down.

“And who’s this?” She crouched almost to Tara’s eye level.

“Oh, that’s Hershey. She’s just along for the ride.” Tara felt surprisingly uncomfortable meeting Pamela’s penetrating gaze.

“You’re another rare individual, aren’t you, Tara Jones?” Tara felt all her fur begin to rise, but not from fear. Chills ran down her spine. This woman knew her name! Knew just from looking at her that she was human!

“Tara?” All three men asked.

“Yep. What you’ve got here is a young woman hexed by a powerful witch, am I right?” Tara bobbed her head. If she could tell this much, then maybe Pamela could change her back.

“Meow?”

“Sorry, Tara. Surest way to turn you back is to find the witch that did this to you. But hey, you’ve found the Winchesters.” Bobby cleared his throat, “Well, and Bobby. They’ll set you right.” Pamela straightened up.

“Come on in.”

Looks were exchanged between Sam, Dean, and Bobby as they watched Hershey–no, Tara– follow Pamela inside.

Tara wasn’t sure what she was feeling. She was relieved that someone had finally recognized her as human, but what would happen if they looked her up? Would they send her back to the university, several weeks behind in the semester and totally penniless? And what if Riley was still hanging around? Tara found herself wishing she could’ve stayed an abnormally smart cat just a little longer.

“So you hear anything?” Bobby asked.

“Well, I ouija-ed my way through a dozen spirits.” Evidently, Bobby had called her en-route, “No one seems to know who broke your boy out or why.”

“So what’s next?”

“A séance, I think. See if we can see who did the deed.”

“You’re not gonna summon the damn thing here?”

“No.” Pamela shook her head, “I just wanna get a sneak peek at it. Like a crystal ball without the crystal.” She walked into the first room on the right and started making preparations.

“I’m game.” Bobby sighed at Dean’s seemingly careless attitude, but followed them.

While it felt like everyone was doing at least something to prepare for the séance, Tara just kind of sat off to the side feeling useless. There wasn’t much she could’ve done anyways, but as a cat, she felt more like a wallflower than normal. Suddenly, Pamela was squatting by the cabinet next to her, rummaging through its contents.

“You know, I’m getting real high levels of anxiety from you, Tara.” She murmured, pretending to not find the object she needed, “Everything alright?” Frustration flowed through her. She’d lost count of the number of times someone had asked her that, or some variation of it, since the spring and was tired of hearing it. And what good did it do? It wasn’t like she could respond.

“I’m sorry.” Pamela said, “I didn’t mean to offend. And a response like that is just fine.” Oh. So did that mean that she’d heard her whole internal monologue?

“Normally I can’t read thoughts directly. But an animal’s mind tends to be a bit more open than a human’s. And don’t worry, Hershey. The Winchesters may not be perfect, but they never turn aside a poor unfortunate soul. Especially a pretty one like yourself.” Pamela winked at her and Tara found her face growing warm. She suspected she’d be blushing as a human. It had certainly been a long time since anyone had openly flirted with her. And against all odds, she found herself growing fond of the nickname.

“Who’s Jesse?” Tara jumped, suddenly reminded that Pamela wasn’t the only other person in the room.

“Well, it wasn’t forever.” She grabbed what she needed from the cabinet and stood up.

“His loss.” Dean wasn’t the only one mentally undressing Pamela either. Just behind him, Sam was clearly doing the same.

“Might be your gain.” So did Pamela just flirt with everyone? Sam and Dean turned towards the fireplace, away from Pamela and Bobby.

“Dude, I am so in.”

“Yeah, she’s gonna eat you alive.” 

“Hey, I just got out of jail; bring it.” Sam chuckled.

“You’re invited too, Grumpy.” Tara tried to laugh, but it came out as more of a sneeze. Sam, on the other hand, just looked pleased with himself.

“You are  _ not  _ invited.” That made him burst out laughing.

Soon, the room was totally dark, save for the six candles lit in the center of the table. Pamela, Bobby, Sam, and Dean were all sitting around it on wooden chairs and Tara was perched on a spare bar stool. Pamela had insisted that Tara actually take part in the séance since  _ technically _ , she was human. She was sitting between Bobby and Sam. 

“Right. Take each other’s hands.” Two hands wrapped themselves around Tara’s front paws. The pressure felt strange, and she wanted to yank her paws away, but managed to resist. Bobby’s hand was rough, callused and scarred from the job. And so was Sam’s, but there were still patches of smooth skin that she could see.

“And I need to touch something our mystery monster touched.” Something banged against the table’s underside.

“Whoa! Well, he didn’t touch me  _ there _ .” 

“My mistake.” Pamela smirked. Sam snickered, and let go of Dean’s hand so he could take his flannel shirt off. Then, he rolled up his sleeve, exposing a burn in the shape of a handprint. He felt a chill go down his spine. Just  _ what _ had raised Dean, seemingly for free, when no demon would strike a bargain with him?

“Ok.” The psychic settled her hand over the mark, and once Dean took his hand again, she started the ritual.

“I invoke, conjure, and command you: appear unto me before this circle.” She had her eyes closed, and her brow creased in concentration, “I invoke, conjure, and command you: appear unto me before this circle.” The TV flicked on, displaying nothing but static. Over Pamela’s repeated command, Tara started to hear something else. It was a whine, almost like her ears were ringing after exiting a noisy club for the silence outside, but this was different. It was aggressive, getting louder and louder with every passing second. The table started to tremble.

“I invoke–Castiel? No, sorry Castiel. I don’t scare easy.”

“Castiel?”

“It’s name.” Pamela’s eyes were still closed, “It’s whispering to me, warning me to turn back. I conjure and command you: show me your face.” The table’s shaking got worse. The flames shook and the wax threatened to spill over the sides, “I conjure and command you: show me your face. I conjure and command you–”

“Maybe we should stop.” Bobby said. He wasn’t the only one who had that opinion.

“I almost got it.” She snapped, “I command you: show me your face.” Both Bobby’s and Sam’s grips on her paws were getting tighter. Almost to the point that she was afraid they would crush them, “Show me your face now!”

The flames leapt to incredible heights, shining bright enough to make Tara look away. She could feel the warmth against her fur even from here. Pamela screamed, and Tara couldn’t take it anymore. She pulled her paws free, breaking the circle, and clamped them over her ears as best she could.

Then Pamela fell backwards and the candle flames diminished to normal. The room stopped shaking, and the whine faded out too. But Tara’s relief paled in comparison to her concern for Pamela.

“Call 911!” Bobby ordered, and he and Dean proceeded to crowd the psychic. While Sam ran to another room to make the call, Tara hopped over to the table and peered down at her. Pamela was breathing, but she had blood around her eyes. Or rather, eyesockets. Her eyelids opened to reveal a pair of burnt, gaping holes. Tara was suddenly very glad she hadn’t caught that mouse earlier, because it would’ve come right back up.

“I can’t see!” Pamela sobbed, “I can’t see! Oh, God.” Tara couldn’t take the sight anymore. She leapt off the table and bounded farther into the house.

Sam had just hung up with the 911 operator when something bowled into his shins. The brown furry something stumbled back, shaking her head a bit. Now knowing that she was human, Sam could see the subtle differences in her behavior. Her patience while they’d set up the séance, the way she’d lounged on the stool, and now her posture as she fought the dizziness that came with running full-tilt into him.

“Hey,” As he crouched to her level, Sam felt a little guilty about not remembering her actual name, “Hershey, you alright?” Again with that stupid question! Tara was a tad annoyed, but was too nauseous right now to glare at him.

“Come here.” He put his phone away and carefully scooped Hershey up off the floor. Tara reluctantly let it happen. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but it could be a lot worse. Sam had one hand under her back paws and the other wrapped around her. His shoulder made a great spot for her front paws. But she still didn’t like being this far off the ground.

Sam went back to the front room. Bobby was still supporting Pamela, and Dean had moved to stow the candles from the ritual.

“Ambulance is on the way.”

“Good. You and Dean take off, get back to Pontiac. This whole séance thing probably just shook the hornet’s nest. I’ll be on my way as soon as she’s stable.”

“What about Hershey?” It seemed her name had slipped Dean’s mind too.

“Take Tara with you. And since she’s probably sticking around until we find that witch, you’d better give her the Talk.” Tara would’ve rolled her eyes if she could have. Did Bobby forget that she’d spent over a month at his place? With what she’d seen today, she was ready to believe just about anything.

  
  



	5. Angels and Demons

During the drive back to Pontiac, Tara sat in the backseat again while Sam and Dean explained the world of the supernatural as best they could. Most of the information wasn’t new; she’d heard Bobby talk about ghosts, vampires, werewolves, demons and just about every other thing they mentioned. Though she was still working on believing that  _ all _ of them were real and somehow only a select few people knew about them. She had a lot of questions for them. How had they found out about this stuff? How did they find these things? What did they do for money–did the people they saved pay them or something? But she couldn’t ask any of them.

When they got back to Pontiac, they returned to the same hotel as before since Sam hadn’t actually checked out. While he extended his reservation a couple more nights, Dean snuck Tara back upstairs, this time carrying her wrapped up in his leather jacket. 

Tara could tell that the maid had already been in today. The bed was made, their trash from the pizza was gone, and the sofa pillows had been fluffed. As soon as Dean put her down, Tara raced off to use the bathroom.

When she emerged, Dean was sitting on the bed and Sam was nowhere to be seen. She hopped up next to him and for once, Dean didn’t flinch away. Instead, he reached out to pet her.

“So, human huh? This must really blow for you.” Tara flopped down and rolled over. Dean scoffed in amusement. Bobby hadn’t been kidding when he said she liked belly rubs. Already, she was purring loudly.

“Ya know, Pamela was right. We’ll find a way to change you back.”

“Meow.” This wasn’t actually so bad, being a cat. It had certainly been a nice break from having to deal with being a human.

“But until then, I’m calling you Hershey.” He added as an afterthought. 

Tara meowed again.

“Ok, we’re gonna have to figure out a better way to have a conversation cause I don’t speak cat.”

\------

Pretty much as soon as Sam got back to the room, he and Dean left to get food. They promised to bring her back something edible that wasn’t cat food, but in the meantime, there was nothing for Tara to do. At Bobby’s there was always something to do if watching Bobby wasn’t interesting enough. She knew the grounds pretty well, and where all the best views were from the tops of the cars. She was there a whole month and had never found herself as bored as she was now, alone in the hotel room. There was a TV, but the remote’s buttons were too small and too close together for her to work it properly. 

All there really was for her to do was sleep, and she’d done plenty of that in the last twenty four hours. Well that and, her eyes landed on the duffel bags that Sam had brought up, go through their stuff.

A part of her wanted to feel bad about it, but if they were going to leave her here with nothing to do, what did they expect? She had to make her own entertainment. The zippers were easy to move once she figured out how to hook her claw in the hole. Inside the first bag was nothing but clothes. Sam’s from the smell of them. Tara pawed her way to the bottom just to be sure he wasn’t hiding a book or something, but all she found was condoms. 

She shook her head. At least he was smart about sleeping with call girls, even if they weren’t charging him.

The second duffel bag proved much more interesting. Right on top was a shotgun, but under that, the bag was packed with books much like the ones Bobby had, only more of them were in languages that Tara recognized. English, and some Latin.

She dragged one of the top ones out of the bag and began to page through it. It contained a lot of information about demons and demonic possession. It also contained no shortage of exorcisms, as well as ways to trap specific demons. One of the sigils Tara recognized as the thing Bobby had painted on the inside of his trunk. It was just a standard devil’s trap, and would contain any demon, according to the book. There were other traps too, and they all had their own specialities. The Key of Solomon was far more complicated to draw, but it rendered a demon totally powerless instead of merely containing it.

Another thing Tara noted was the various ways to avoid possession. There were a few different anti-possession charms that could be crafted, but it seemed that the best way was to get a tattoo. 

Tara examined the star pattern surrounded by flames. It was rather pretty. She wouldn’t mind getting something like that. Once she was human again, of course. She had to keep reminding herself of that.

All of a sudden, the door slammed open and Sam and Dean rushed in. Dean stumbled over his own feet when he caught sight of Hershey reading a book. She’s human, he reminded himself, she just looks like a cat.

Tara’s eyes flicked back and forth between Sam and Dean. Sam’s hair was ruffled and they were both slightly winded.

“Meow?”

“Freakin’ demon possessed our waitress.” 

“But we brought this.” Sam hefted a takeout bag.

\------

The rest of the day was uneventful. Tara had been glad to hear that Pamela was stable and that Bobby was on his way back. Sam had gotten himself a salad at the diner–with extra chicken on the side. It had made the perfect meal for her. The meat was tender, not too heavily seasoned, and on top of all that, it was cooked. Tara had been more than happy to fall into a food coma afterwards.

But now, she was climbing the walls. All Sam and Dean had done all day was read, and she could only sit still for so long. For awhile, she’d tried to entertain herself by reading over Dean’s shoulder (he’d claimed the bed while Sam took over one of the sofas), but now even he had succumbed to the lack of sleep and she’d read the same page ten times out of sheer boredom. 

She was just started to consider bugging Sam for a belly rub or an ear scratch when he stood up. In her peripheral, she could see him move slowly, putting on his jacket and heading for the door. 

Before he opened the door, Sam glanced over his shoulder, to check if Dean was still asleep. He jumped a bit when he saw that Tara–or did she prefer Hershey? She hadn’t fussed when Dean called her that–was wide awake. Her brown eyes pinned him down and narrowed. 

Tara knew Sam was probably about to do something he shouldn’t, but if it meant leaving the hotel, then she wanted in. She stood up, careful not to disturb Dean, but Sam waved a hand at her. The last thing he wanted was her coming with back to the diner. She would take one sniff of those demons and realize that “Christie” wasn’t really a call girl.

But it seemed that Tara would not be so easily dissuaded. She raised a paw, and threatened to smack Dean’s thigh. Sam sighed, exasperated, but gave in.

_ “Come on.”  _ He mouthed. 

Pleased with herself, Tara hopped soundlessly off the bed and followed him out of the room.

\------

Sam was totally silent during the car ride. He knew it was a bad idea, bringing Tara with him, but she hadn’t exactly given him a choice. He gave her a sideways glance. She was sitting on the passenger’s side now, looking out the window. It wasn’t like he could have a conversation with her either, not a meaningful one anyway when all she could do was meow.

Tara, on the other hand, was glad to be out of the hotel. It didn’t really matter to her where Sam was going, so long as she got some time to run off all her pent-up energy.

After about a five minute drive, Sam pulled into a parking lot. It was totally empty, and the building it belonged to was a diner. The sign outside was all lit up, but there were no lights on inside. Was Sam here to take care of the demon from earlier?

Sam watched the darkened windows carefully, looking for movement, or some other sign that Ruby was already here. But it was too dark. At least, for his eyes.

“Hey Tara, come here a sec.” She padded across the bench and looked up at him. She hoped the look on her face was enough to ask her question: What?

“You can see better in the dark, right? As a cat.” She bobbed her head awkwardly.

“Great. Can you watch the windows? Let me know if you see anything move?” Tara stayed where she was. Just because she was currently a cat didn’t mean Sam got to order her around. He sighed.

“Please? I’ll owe you one.” Tara narrowed her eyes, but stepped over Sam’s legs to reach the window. Sam tensed a bit when Tara stepped between his legs, hyper aware of the face that she could very easily have placed her paw a few inches to her left and caused him a lot of pain. But thankfully, she didn’t, and Tara settled for seeing Sam look very uncomfortable for a few moments. 

Once on the other side of him, she stood on her hind paws and placed her front ones at the base of the window. The windows of the diner were dark, but she couldn’t see much more than that; it was too blurry at this distance. She meowed at Sam, counting on her low tone to carry the message.

“Can’t see anything, huh?” Tara got down, “Well thanks for trying.” He resumed watching the windows himself, and started petting Tara absentmindedly. 

Tara flopped down on the bench, enjoying the free massage, but then all of a sudden, Sam’s phone rang loudly. She jumped, and Sam laughed a bit before answering the call.

“Hey.”

“What’re you doing?” Tara could vaguely hear Dean’s voice on the other end.

“Couldn’t sleep, went to get a burger.” Tara’s head snapped up. What reason did Sam have to lie? Sam jerked at her movement, but kept petting her.

“In my car?” Dean was indignant, “With Hershey?”

“Force of habit, sorry. And yeah, Tara’s here. What are you doing up?”

“Well, uh, Bobby’s back. We’re going to grab a beer.”

“Alright, well, uh, spill some for me, huh?”

“Done. Catch you later.” Sam hung up and met Tara’s stare.

“Yeah, ok. So I’m not grabbing a burger. But I’ll bet you that Dean’s not getting a beer either. Think you can avoid tattling?” Tara considered it. She didn’t know Dean well enough yet to dispute that he’d been lying. But if these two knew each other as well as Tara suspected, she wouldn’t need to rat Sam out. However, that didn’t mean she’d do it for free. She rolled, exposing her stomach. Sam laughed.

“What, you want a belly rub in exchange for not spilling the beans?” The brown cat meowed at him, and started purring.

“Alright.”

\------

Sam waited until Tara’s eyes drifted shut and her purring quieted down before he left the car. The whole time, he’d kept an eye on the diner’s windows, but there was still no sign of Ruby or the other demons. He opened the door carefully, but the creak of the hinge gave him away. Tara jerked awake at the sound, and hopped out before Sam could stop her.

“Oh, no, just wait...in the car.” But she was already out of arm’s reach and something told Sam he’d only make an idiot of himself if he tried to grab her. So he rolled down the window and got out after her.

“Fine. Stay out here, but keep the car in sight.” Tara stuck her tail straight up and stalked away from him. Sam rolled his eyes at her antics as he headed over to the entrance of the diner.

As soon as Sam turned his back, Tara slipped under the car and watched him. He went straight to the diner’s door and squatted in front of the handle. A few seconds later, he straightened up and went inside.

Sam cast one last look over his shoulder as he entered the diner, but Tara was nowhere to be seen. Bringing her along had been a mistake, he was sure, but all he could do now was shut the door behind him and hope she hadn’t seen where he’d gone.

_ Yeah _ , he thought,  _ Fat chance of that. _

Tara slunk over to the diner and started looking for a way to see inside. Hopping up onto the window sill wasn’t an option; she would cast a massive shadow. But there was a tree not too far away that looked climbable. 

The bark was rough on the pads of her feet, but Tara climbed the tree anyway. She went out onto the branch that hung closest to the diner, using her tail for balance more and more the thinner the branch got. At this angle, she could see pretty much everything going on inside the diner. There were at least two bodies on the floor, and Sam was bent over one of them, seemingly checking for a pulse. When the body didn’t move, Tara wasn’t sure how to feel. Had Sam killed them because they were possessed? Or were they already dead when he got there?

Whatever the case was, Tara felt like she had missed something big during the precious minute it had taken to climb the tree. And that feeling was only amplified when someone entered the diner from the back. 

It took Tara a moment to recognize her; she was wearing an entirely different outfit and the blinds obscured some of her facial features, but the long, dark brown hair was unmistakable. It was the call girl from last night! Or rather, the person Sam had claimed was a call girl. So who was she really?

Tara thought back to the horrible smell she’d left behind in the hotel last night, and something clicked. Rotten eggs on steroids, that what it had smelled like! And according to the book she’d read earlier, that was one of the classic demons signs. But the question was: what was Sam doing fooling around with a demon?

She watched as the two of them sat down in one of the booths and chatted. She was never any good at reading lips, and the blinds certainly weren’t helping matters. At this point, Tara was reconsidering ratting Sam out not just to Dean, but Bobby too. 

Or maybe, this demon could do her a favor. Not make a deal, Tara promised herself, just ask for a favor. Earlier, Dean had referred to a demon named Ruby who had helped them out. Maybe this demon was doing something similar.

But before Tara could take that line of thought any further, Sam got up to leave. A jolt a panic ran through her and she started the much slower journey down from the tree. The last thing she wanted was to get busted for spying–again.   
Sam came out the front of the diner while Ruby left out the back. Their meeting had been less productive than he’d hoped. The demon had no idea who pulled Dean out of hell, only that whatever it was was dangerous. She was scared, Sam realized, but hopefully that meant Lillith was too.

After wiping the door free of his prints, Sam looked around for Tara. She wasn’t in the parking lot, and when he peeked inside the Impala, it was empty.

“Tara?” He called, “Where’d you go?” 

Tara saw the squirrel frozen halfway up the trunk of the tree right before she began her final descent. It had its full attention on Sam, who was calling for her. Before Sam had called her, Tara was just going to leave the thing alone. But now that she thought about it, she was hungry, and the squirrel was distracted. She repositioned herself. The squirrel hadn’t seen her yet, and she’d only get the one shot. Putting all her weight on her back paws, Tara walked her front legs carefully down the trunk, trying to get closer. The squirrel still remained oblivious.

Tara hesitated. It was a long way to the ground, if she landed wrong, she could end up breaking something.

Maybe that had been a problem as a human growing up, she told herself, but cats always landed on their feet, right? For the most part.

“Tara! It’s time to go!” Sam shouted. She couldn’t wait any longer. Tara pushed off the branch into a semi-controlled fall. On the way down, she clawed the squirrel, catching the little furry thing off guard and bringing it down with her.

The impact on her paws when she hit the ground was jarring, but Tara ignored the tingling in her legs and delivered the killing bite.

“Damnit.” Sam cursed. There was still no sign of Tara. And he wanted to get back to the hotel before Bobby could question how long it took to get a burger. 

“Tara!” He called, one more time, “It’s time to go!” Something in the nearby tree moved, and a twig beneath it snapped. Sam walked towards the noise just as Tara emerged from the shadows, carrying a limp squirrel in her jaws. She dropped the rodent at his feet and meowed at him.

“Uh…” It was pretty clear that she wanted to eat now, and Sam knew Dean would actually kill him if he let Tara get squirrel entrails all over the Impala. He looked at his watch and pursed his lips.

“Think you can eat that and be ready to go in ten?” In response, Tara laid down and held the squirrel between her front paws.

Sam turned his back and retreated to the Impala. There were a lot of things he could watch without throwing up. He’d seen ghosts with their guts spilling out. He’d cut into half-eaten corpses to check for missing hearts. Hell, he’d drink demon blood. But the thought of watching a cat eat a squirrel made him gag.

\------

Sam and Tara barely beat Dean and Bobby back to the hotel. In fact, Tara hadn’t even gotten settled on the bed before they burst in. Dean’s eyes were wild and his knuckles were bloody. Bobby wasn’t in much better shape either. Sam’s head snapped up from the book on the table at the commotion.

“What the hell happened?”

“We summoned it. The thing that pulled Dean out.”

“What!? What was it?”

“He claimed he was an angel.” Dean scoffed, “A fucking ‘Angel of the Lord.” Tara gasped. Were angels real?

“Seriously?” Sam was a little skeptical, but with what Ruby said, the details seemed to fit, “Did you...kill him?” He gestured to the blood on Dean’s jacket.

“No! He pulled Ruby’s knife out of his chest like it was a god damned splinter!” Dean waved the blood-covered blade around, “We went in armed to the teeth and nothing worked!”

“So what now?” Sam asked.

“We go back to my place.” Bobby said, “Read up on angels–”

“He’s not an angel Bobby, angels aren’t real!”

“Well, whatever he is, we aren’t prepared to deal with him here. So are we going, or what?” Dean looked a little cowed at Bobby’s outburst, and Tara didn’t even try to hide her smile.


	6. Ozone

Tara rode shotgun with Bobby on the way back to his place. The drive was tense, and Bobby didn’t even try to make conversation–other than to explain that even the hunting community had filed angels in the ‘bullcrap’ column–until they had pulled off the highway. Tara had been too stressed out to sleep. The fact that angels could very well be real was blowing her mind. Being raised Catholic was one thing, but finding out that there might actually be some hard truth to any of it was something else. 

But angel or not, if this thing was capable of raising Dean from Hell, then maybe he was the one Tara should be talking to, not some demon.

“Hey, Tara?” Bobby’s voice made her jump. It felt a little strange now, being called her actual name after so long, “I’m sorry you got dragged into this. And Pamela was right, by the way. We’ll find a way to change you back.” Tara meowed and gave his elbow a head-butt. For the past couple days, ever since Dean had shown up at Bobby’s, she’d felt a bit like spare baggage. But it felt good to hear that, despite everything that was going on, that they would still help her. And in the meantime, she was more than willing to help them with this angel business.

\------

Tara stood up and stretched her legs out as far as they would go. For three days, she’d done almost nothing but read legends, myths, and other assorted lore about angel-esque figures from cultures all around the globe and she’d found not one workable lead. The others had been doing the same thing, trying to find evidence that any other creature could free a soul from hell. Demons had been among the first things ruled out.

However, Dean wasn’t persuaded by any talk of angels, and was still convinced that this Casitel had been lying to him about his identity. Because naturally, claiming to be an angel was a logical course of action if you were trying to hide what you really were.

And naturally, Sam was enjoying pushing Dean’s buttons about it whenever he could.

“Well, then tell me what else it could be.”

“Look, all I know is I was not groped by an angel.” Bobby was pointedly ignoring their latest spat, but Tara was done trying to zone them out.

“Ok look, Dean, why do you think this Castiel would lie to you about it?”

“Maybe because he’s some kind of demon!” Sam tossed his head back in annoyance, “Demons lie!” Despite their discovery that demons couldn’t free a soul from Hell, Dean still maintained that even ‘after all this time’, they still didn’t know what kind of demon has yellow eyes.

“A demon who’s immune to salt rounds and devil’s traps, and Ruby’s knife? Dean, Lilith is scared of that thing!”

“Don’t you think that if angels were real, that some hunter, somewhere, would’ve seen one, at some point...ever!?” He’d nearly reached the point of shouting.

“Yeah. You just did, Dean.”

“I’m trying to come up with a theory here, ok? Work with me.”

“Dean, we  _ have _ a theory.”

“Yeah. One with a little less fairy dust on it, please.”

“Ok, look. I’m not saying we know for sure. I–I’m just saying that I think we–”

“Ok, ok.” Dean cut him off with a hand on his hip and his finger pointing at the ceiling. He looked a bit like a parent telling their kid off, “That’s the point. We don’t know for sure, so I’m not gonna believe that this thing is a freaking angel of the Lord because it says so!”

“You two chuckleheads wanna keep arguing religion?” Thank goodness for Bobby, “Or do you wanna come take a look at this?” Tara hopped down off the sofa and walked over to the desk. Sam and Dean were slower on the uptake, choosing to glare at each other for a few moments before heading over. Sam was there first, so he picked Tara up and put her on the desk.

“I got stacks of lore,” Bobby was saying, “Biblical, pre-Biblical, some of it’s in damn cuneiform. It all says an angel can snatch a soul from the pit.” He displayed an image of an angel lifting a soul out of hell.

“What else?”

“What else what?”

“What else could do it?” Dean  _ still _ was convinced.

“Airlift your ass out of the hotbox? ‘S far as I can tell, nothing. You, Tara?” She shook her head. Dean scowled at the news, but Sam was fighting a smile.

“Dean, this is good news.”

“How?” He deadpanned.

“Because, for once, this isn’t just another round of demon crap. I mean, maybe you were saved by one of the good guys, you know?”

“Ok, say it’s true.” Dean finally conceded, “Say there are angels. Then what, there’s a God?” And there is was. The conclusion that Tara had been ignoring for the past three days now. Because if there  _ was _ one, then it seemed he didn’t give a crap about how much someone prayed to him.

“At this point, Vegas money’s on yeah.”

“I don’t know, guys.”

“Ok, look. I know you’re not all choir boy about this stuff, but it’s becoming less and less about faith and more and more about proof!”

“Proof?”

“Yes.”

“Proof that there’s a God out there who actually gives a crap about me personally? I’m sorry, but I’m not buying it!”

“Why not?” Sam asked. Dean looked back and forth between him and Bobby.

“Because why me? If there is a God out there, why would he give a crap about me?!”

“Dean–”

“I mean, I’ve saved some people, ok? I figured that made up for the-the stealing and the ditching chicks. But why do I deserve to get saved? I’m just a regular guy!”

“Apparently, you’re a regular guy that’s important to the man upstairs.” That stopped Dean in his tracks. 

“Well that creeps me out!” Yeah, but at least he was alive to get creeped out by it, “I mean, I don’t like getting singled out at birthday parties, much less by...God.”

“Ok, well too bad, Dean. Because I think he wants you to strap of your party hat.” Tara tried to laugh, but it came out as a sneeze.

“Bless you.” Bobby said softly. That little distraction was enough to bring Dean out of his cloud of emotions. Or rather, bury them.

“All right. What do we know about angels?” Bobby examined Dean for a minute, but then he hefted several old, thick books onto the desk next to Tara. 

“Start reading.” Dean balked at the size of the stack. Something told him that there weren’t a lot of pictures in those books.

“You’re gonna get me some pie.” He pointed at Sam. Sam, who had skimmed probably half the books in the pile already because he hadn’t been denying that angels existed.

“Alright. You want anything, Bobby? Tara?”

“Just the usual.” Bobby replied. Tara meowed back. They’d managed to establish that that meant she wanted chicken of some sort. Now that they knew she was human, they were a little more lax about feeding her ‘human’ food.

After Sam left, Bobby set Tara up with one of the books from the stack. It was in Latin, which she knew enough of to get the gist, but it was still slow-going.

“Hey, Bobby.” Dean broke the silence after about fifteen minutes. It was obvious to Tara that he’d never really taken school seriously, because he didn’t seem to know how to just sit and  _ read _ . First, he’d gotten up to get a glass of water, and then he’d called Sam and reminded him to get chips with the pie. And now this.

“Yeah?” Bobby didn’t even look up from his book.

“Have you heard back from any of your hunter contacts?” The first thing Bobby had done when they got back here was to reach out to everyone he knew regarding angels and Tara. So far, they’d gotten back to him with jack on angels and squat on witches turning people into cats–or animals of any sort for that matter. The general consensus, though, was to find the witch who’d turned her and make him change her back.

“Not since yesterday.” Bobby scrolled through his contacts. He’d heard back from everyone he was still on speaking terms with. Almost everyone. His eyes snagged on a certain name, and he dialled her number.

Tara and Dean both watched him silently as the phone rang one, twice, three times before it went to voicemail.

“Damnit.” Bobby hung up before the recording finished.

“What is it?”

“Nothing for certain.” He stared at her contact, “But I think we’d better take a quick road trip.”

Dean all but jumped at the opportunity to skip out on more reading. While he and Bobby loaded up the car, Tara sat and waited patiently. Soon, the Impala pulled up outside the garage, and Bobby met Sam before he could park.

“Keep the engine running.”

“Why, what’s going on?”

“Come on, Hershey.” Dean shut Bobby’s trunk and waved her down from the roof. Tara looked at him. Really? He was inviting her along? Dean saw her hesitation and rolled his eyes.

“Yes, I’m serious.” He beckoned her to follow, “Move it or lose it.” Tara grinned and got off the car.

“I got a friend one state over, Olivia Lowry. I’ve been trying to reach her for three days about this angel thing. It’s not like her to ignore this many calls.”

“Olivia Lowry–a hunter, right?” Sam had never met her, but he recognized the name.

“Yeah. We’re gonna go check on her. You guys follow me.” Tara followed Dean around to the driver’s side of the car.

“Scoot over.” He said to Sam. The younger Winchester was totally unbothered by Dean’s sudden appearance and did as he asked. Tara wasted no time jumping in as soon as there was room.  _ That  _ made Sam jump.

“Tara’s coming with us?”

“Yeah.” Dean shut the door, and then spotted the look Sam was giving him, “What?”

“You invited...a cat...into the Impala? Sorry, Tara.” He realized his mistake immediately.

“Shaddup. Hershey’s the exception.” He ruffled the fur on Tara’s head, much like he would a young child’s. To Tara, the gesture was...odd, but she didn’t protest.

Sam picked up a plastic bag and fished out the still-warm chicken thighs he’d gotten for Tara. He placed the package in front of her on the seat before handing the bag to Dean.

“Dude,” Dean rummaged through the rest of the bag’s contents.

“Yeah?”

“Where’s the pie?” Oh  _ no _ .

\------

Tara migrated to the backseat to eat, but afterwards she jumped right back to the front, lounging between Sam and Dean. The afternoon sun came flooding in for the majority of the drive, warming her and the black leather of the bench. She was quickly starting to like this spot better than the back of Bobby’s couch, especially since one or the other was always petting her. Sam was more cautious about it than Dean, the fact that Tara was really a human was in the forefront of his mind. So every time, he’d subtly ask if it was ok for him to touch her. Dean, on the other hand, had developed a bit of an understanding with her. If she wanted him to stop, she’d bat his hand away.

They reached their destination a few hours later, as the sun was just starting to set. 

Olivia Lowry’s place was much like Bobby’s–isolated, and in need of a minor makeover. Her truck was in the driveway, but there was no sign of anyone inside. The hunters didn’t even knock, they just broke out the shotguns and picked the lock on the front door.

“Hershey, you stay out here.” Dean said, “Yowl if anyone tries to sneak out.” Tara nodded, and when they went into the house, she found a bush to hide in.

Sam shut the door behind them, but not thirty seconds later, Bobby came back out, moving much less quietly. He looked around, not seeing Tara until she stepped into view.

“Come on in.” His expression was somber. Bad news then, “Unless you can’t stand the sight of a dead body. Fair warning, though, it’s pretty bad.” Tara padded over to him and rubbed against his leg, trying to console him. She wasn’t sure if she could handle a sight like he was alluding to, but it was time to find out.

Tara wasn’t sure what she’d expected the house to smell like, but the last smell she’d expected was chlorine. It wasn’t a strong smell, but it was strong enough to bother Tara a bit. It felt like the air was an electrical charge of some sort.

“Olivia was rocking the EMF meter.” She followed Dean’s voice to the left, through the living room. As soon as she saw into the hall beyond the living room, Tara stopped short. The dead body on the floor had to be Olivia, but it wasn’t the dead body itself that bothered her. It was the fact that she looked like a chestburster had killed her! The charged chlorine smell was stronger in here. Tara lifted a front paw and buried her nose in her elbow as best she could.

“Spirit activity.” Sam was crouched over the body while Dean stood by a broom closet that looked like it had been repurposed to hide weapons.

“Yeah, on steroids. I’ve never seen a ghost do  _ this _ to a person.”

“Tara?” She jumped when Dean called her her actual name, “Is it the body?” She tried to shake her head and keep her nose covered. She  _ could  _ smell the body, and the sickly sweet rot of decomposing flesh, but the chlorine was worse.

“Wait a second.” Sam swivelled to face her, “Do you smell ozone?” Tara shrugged as best she could. What did ozone smell like? Fortunately, Sam picked up on her confusion.

“Um, like a metallic smell.” She thought about it. That made more sense with the electric aftertaste it left in her mouth. Tara bobbed her head.

“Definitely a spirit, then.” Dean confirmed, “Not that there was much doubt.” Someone came up behind Tara.

“Bobby, you alright?” Sam straightened up and Tara turned around, gritting her teeth and bearing the smell. Bobby had his cell open in his hand.

“I called some hunters nearby.”

“Good, we could use their help. Olivia’s been dead three days at least and Tara can still smell the ozone.” Bobby cast a glance at her at that.

“Except, they aren’t answering their phones either.”

“Something’s up, huh?” 

“Ya think?” 

\------

Bobby and the Winchesters split up to go check in on the other hunters in the area. Against Bobby’s personal wishes, Tara went with Sam and Dean. Ultimately, it was probably good for her to be spending more time with people closer to her own age–at least, he was assuming that she was closer in age with them. But he’d grown fond of her. Even before he found out she was human, it had been nice to know that there was another beating heart nearby.

\------

It was nearly midnight when the Impala pulled up outside Jed’s house. This time, Sam and Dean let Tara follow them inside. Just like at Olivia’s house, the stench of ozone permeated the air, accompanied by the smell of a decomposing body. 

Jed’s house was in a similar state as Olivia’s; there were signs of a supernatural struggle in the overturned furniture, salt lines, and loaded shotgun. Not to mention Jed himself. He was even more of a mess than Olivia. 

The boys only stayed inside long enough to wipe down their prints, and Dean called Bobby on their way out.

“Yeah, we’re at Jed’s. It’s not pretty. He looks even worse than Olivia. What about you?” Tara didn’t hear Bobby’s answer, but by Dean’s reaction–or lack thereof–it wasn’t good.

“What the hell’s going on here, Bobby? Why did a bunch of ghosts suddenly wanna gank off-duty hunters?” Sam let Tara into the car from his side.

“We’re on our way.”

\------

Dean really pushed the speed limits on the way back to Bobby’s, and after a couple hours, he and Sam switched out for the sake of sleep. Tara, on the other hand, was wide awake. Somewhere around 3am, Sam pulled into a gas station.

While Sam went inside the building to use the bathroom, Tara found herself a bush tucked just out of the lights.

She was just heading back to the car when she caught a whiff of it. Ozone. Tara broke into a run. Sam was nowhere to be seen, but Dean was still in the car. She leapt into the hood and pawed at the windshield. Dean could yell at her later. But right now, she just knew something was wrong.

Dean jerked awake, and gave a shout when he saw the pair of reflective eyes staring at him through the windshield.

“Damnit, Hershey.” 

“Meow!” Despite the low lighting, her pupils were narrow slits. That’s when Dean noticed that Sam was missing. He practically fell out of the car, stamping his feet, trying to get the blood flowing.

“Where is he?” Tara pointed to the building, balancing on three legs, and then watched helplessly as Dean grabbed a shotgun from the trunk and ran inside. He left the door open for her.

A few minutes later, they came back together. Both of them were breathing hard, and Sam had a bruise developing on his forehead. After stowing the shotgun in the trunk and paying for the gas, Dean resumed driving.

“Meow?” Tara pawed at Sam’s thigh, bringing him out of his head.

“I’m alright.” He reassured her, stroking her gently. Dean swerved hard to get back onto the main road, sending Tara completely into Sam’s lap. He winced as her claws dug into his skin through his jeans, but managed to grab her before she collided with the door. His left hand was wrapped under her torso, and he could feel her heart racing against his palm.

Tara worked to calm herself down after Sam prevented her from kissing the door. She was all too aware of how large his hands were. The palm of one covered almost the entire length of her ribcage while his fingers reached under her, between her front legs, and all the way up her neck. His other hand engulfed one of her paws completely as he grasped it and gently tried to unhook her claws from his jeans. As soon as Tara realized what he was doing, she pulled her claws out herself and Sam lifted the hand holding her secure.

Tara climbed off his lap and settled on the black leather between him and Dean. Sam felt a twinge of disappointment at it, but shook it off. She was still human. It would be weird for her to sit on his lap. 

At some point, Dean had whipped out his phone and called someone. 

“Damnit, Bobby, pick up!” He growled when it went to voicemail, “How you feeling, huh? How many fingers am I holding up?” He had both hands on the steering wheel.

“None. I’m fine, Dean.” 

“Henrikson?”

“Yep.” Who was Henrikson?

“Why? What’d he want?”

“Revenge, ‘cause he got him killed.” Sam explained.

“Sam.” Dean cast a sideways glance at him.

“Well, we did, Dean.” He slammed his phone shut.

“Alright, stop right there. Whatever the hell’s going on, it’s happening to us  _ now _ , ok? I can’t get ahold of Bobby, so if you’re not thinking answers, then don’t think at all!” Tara couldn’t take the yelling anymore, so she stood up and leapt into the back seat. Dean immediately felt guilty about scaring her off, but the anger was just too close to the surface to try and mend that fence right now.

  
  



	7. Witnesses

The rest of the ride back to Bobby’s passed in tense silence. Tara couldn’t sleep, too worried about the older hunter. Against all odds, she’d grown fond of him, and really didn’t want to get back to his place, the place that had been her home for the last month, only to find him looking like a facehugger victim.

Despite Dean breaking virtually every posted speed limit, the sun was high in the sky once again by the time they arrived back at Singer Auto Salvage. 

Tara followed Sam and Dean into the house. The metallic smell of ozone hung in the air throughout the property, and neither of them were surprised when she managed to communicate it to them.

“Bobby?” Dean whisper-yelled as he crept inside. The brothers moved in perfect tandem, checking around corners and covering each other’s backs. Tara couldn’t help but admire it. How much time did you have to spend with someone to work that seamlessly together?

Nothing was to be found on the first floor of the house except for a fallen lamp and spilled salt in the study. No Bobby, but also no blood, which came as a relief to all three of them. For the moment, it looked like he was still alive.

“I’ll go up, you two check outside.” Dean whispered. Sam’s response was to move quickly back to the front door, and Tara was on his heels.

Once outside, Sam spoke up.

“Let’s split up. I’ll take the north side, you take the south. If you find anything, yowl.” The nod that Tara gave him was so human that Sam wondered how none of them had figured it out sooner.

Now that she was doing something other than exploring, the asphalt aisles of cars seemed to go on forever. At first, Tara thought that following the ozone smell would help, but it just ended in her going in circles. In the distance, she could hear Sam calling for Bobby. 

When she reached the end of the first aisle, Tara jumped up onto the cars. It gave her a better vantage point of the whole area. She could see Sam now, or at least, the blurry figure she assumed was Sam. He was using a crowbar to open the trunks of any car he could reach.

“Bobby!”

Tara jumped onto the next stack over, scrambling up the tilted hood onto the roof. As she surveyed the many rows of cars, her eyes searched for anything out of the ordinary. Once more, she cursed her changed vision, as anything more than about twenty feet away was fuzzy.

Suddenly, Sam stopped. His breath plumed in front of him and a chill ran through him. A car on one of the highest stacks was covered in ice crystals. The metal of the doors was creaking, and even as he looked at it, the rearview mirror cracked.

“Tara! Over here!”

She didn’t need to be told twice. Leaping from car to car, then down across the aisle separating them, Tara made it to Sam right as he tore open the rear doors of a car, which were almost completely frozen over. An invisible force from inside threw him backwards, and he crashed into the windshield of the car behind him. Tara only barely avoided getting smashed.

Then, suddenly there was a child straddling Sam. She was filthy, with greasy dark hair and dirt smeared on her face and white dress. Tara froze. Knowing ghosts were real was one thing, but seeing one just flash into existence was another.

But Sam wasn’t phased. He swung with the crowbar, slicing right through the spirit. She vanished in a puff of smoke. 

Inside the van, Bobby managed to banish a second girl who looked much like the first on his own with a fire poker. Tara was relieved to see that he looked unhurt, if a little shaken.

\------

Tara, Sam, and Bobby joined an equally shaken Dean in the study. Apparently, he’d also been attacked by a ghost of someone from his past. Tara really didn’t like the implications of that, because it was looking like she was next. The first thing Bobby did was open several different books while Sam talked it out with Dean. Tara was sitting on the sofa with the elder Winchester, who was actually starting to appreciate the cat’s presence.

“So they’re all people we know?” Sam confirmed.

“Not just know.” Dean corrected, “People we couldn’t save.” He was loading a shotgun with rock salt rounds, “Hey, I saw something on Meg. Did she have a tattoo when she was alive?” Sam shook his head.

“I don’t think so.”

“It was a-a mark on her hand, almost like a brand.” He was rubbing a spot just under his thumb.

“I saw a mark on Henrikson too.”

“What did it look like?” Bobby asked.

“Uh...paper?” Bobby handed him a blank notepad, “Thanks.” While Sam drew the mark as best as he could remember, Dean finished loading the shotgun. When he was done, he held the notepad up for Dean to see.

“That’s it.”

“I may have seen this before.” Bobby said when he saw it. He turned and started looking through the bookshelf behind the desk, but then the lights started flickering.

“We gotta move.” He dumped a book in Sam’s arms, “Follow me.”

“Ok,” Sam hurried to pick up his own shotgun and duffel bag, “Where are we going?” Bobby stopped compiling several loose papers.

“Some place safe, you idjit.”

Before Tara could protest, Dean had scooped her up off the sofa. Tara squirmed, trying to get her front paws free. Bobby led the three of them into the foyer by the back door and finally, finally, opened the one door that Tara had yet to go through. It opened into a wooden staircase, leading down into a basement of some sort. Tara stopped squirming and took in the details as best she could.

The basement was unfinished, and had rusty tools and dusty equipment lying everywhere. Cobwebs hung down from the ceiling, clinging to the walls and just about everything else too. Tara suddenly understood why Bobby hadn’t let her down here. There were just too many things that an ordinary cat would injure themselves on or knock over.

Bobby moved with a purpose, descending the stairs and making a U-turn to the right. In that corner of the room was a solid, metal door. Both Sam and Dean were looking at it curiously too. The door swung out with a loud creak, revealing a much cleaner room inside.

The brothers hesitated a moment before accepting the silent to demand to get in.

The room was perfectly circular inside, and the only light came from above. A giant fan rotated slowly above a giant devil’s trap. A corresponding devil’s trap had been laid in on the floor. Along the walls of the room was a bed, a couple of chairs, a cluttered desk, and a slew of weapons. Lights turned on as soon as Sam and Dean stepped inside.

Dean put Tara down and looked around in awe, especially at the devil’s trap in the ceiling. Sam examined the closest wall. Bobby stepped inside then too, and brought the door shut with another creak and a clang. A hung lock slotted into place, the sound echoing loudly in Tara’s ears.

“Bobby, is this–”

“Solid iron, completely coated in salt. 100% ghost proof.”

“You built a panic room?”

“I have a weekend off.” Bobby shrugged, and Sam laughed. Tara hopped from the cold floor onto the bed.

“Bobby.”

“What?”

“You’re awesome.” Dean grinned, and giggled at the fortress around him. Then his eyes caught on a poster–one of the only personal touches to the room, “Oh?” Bobby rolled his eyes and ignored the implied question.

\------

The three hunters set to work, Sam and Dean making more salt rounds while Bobby read and Tara looked on. She felt more than a little useless, but that wasn’t exactly her fault. For the work they were doing, you kinda needed opposable thumbs. All the while, Dean looked like he was itching to say something, and finally, a look Sam gave him made him crack.

“See, this is why I can’t get behind God.”

“What ar you talking about?”

“If he doesn’t exist, fine. Bad crap happens to good people. That’s how it is. There’s no rhyme of reason, just random, horrible evil–I get it. Ok? I can roll with that. But if he  _ is _ out there, what’s wrong with him? Where the hell is he while all these decent people are getting torn to shreds, or–or turned into cats?” He waved in Tara’s general direction, and she felt a touch of warmth at his optimism. She hadn’t really spoken one word to him, he didn’t know anything about her aside from her name, and he thought she was at least a decent person.

“How does he live with himself, you know? Why doesn’t he help.” Dean finished pressing a salt round together. Sam shifted uncomfortably in his seat, looking to Bobby, then Tara, and back again.

“I ain’t touchin’ this one with a 10-foot pole.” Bobby had the right idea, and Dean was asking the questions that Tara had been asking herself for a long time now. But for the moment, she just hoped that no one from her past would be making a guest appearance. Dean thought she was a decent person, which meant that Sam and Bobby probably did too, and Tara wanted to keep it that way.

“Found it.” He changed the subject.

“What?”

“The symbol you saw, the brand on the ghosts.”

“Yeah?” Tara went over to Bobby and jumped onto the table. A symbol very similar to the one Sam had drawn was in the book he had open. It was beside a column of text, but Tara couldn’t read the language it was written in.

“Mark of the Witness.”

“Witness? Witness to what?” Sam asked.

“The unnatural.” Bobby said, “None of the died what you’d call ordinary deaths. See, these ghosts, they were  _ forced _ to rise. They woke up in agony, they’re like rabid dogs. It ain’t their fault–someone rose them on purpose.” Hopefully that ruled out Tara getting a visit.   
“Who?”

“Do I look like I know? But whoever it was used a spell so powerful it left a mark, a brand on their souls.” At this point, Sam got up and came over to examine the book for himself.

“Whoever did this had big plans,” Bobby continued, “It’s called the Rising of the Witnesses, it figures into an ancient prophecy.”

“Wait, wait.” Dean finally got up, “What–what book is that prophecy from?”

“Well, the widely distributed version’s just for tourists, you know. But long story short: Revelations.” It may have been a long time since Tara had been to church, but she sure as hell had been to enough Sunday School to know what that meant. This couldn’t be for real, could it? 

“This is a sign, boys.” They were both slack-jawed.

“A sign of what?” They asked together. Bobby sat back in his chair.

“The Apocalypse.” For a moment, the boys just stood there in stunned silence. Sam almost wanted to laugh, but unfortunately, it made a lot on sense. If the angels were going to rescue Dean from hell in the first place, why wait four months? Unless the Apocalypse started. Castiel  _ had _ said they had work for him.

“Apocalypse?”

“Yep.”

“As in  _ Apocalypse _ Apocalypse? The four horsemen, Pestilence, five dollar-a-gallon gas Apocalypse?”

“That’s the one. The Rising of the Witnesses is a mile marker.”

“Ok, so what do we do now?” What  _ could _ they do? Even the so-called tourist version of the Bible said it was pretty much unstoppable. Dean scoffed.

“Road trip. Grand Canyon, Star Trek Experience, Bunny Ranch.” He clapped. That actually sounded like a lot of fun to Tara. UND was the farthest east she’d ever come in the US before being turned into a cat, and wherever Pamela lived was the farthest south.

“First thing’s first. How about we survive our friends out there?” Well,  _ they _ could do that. No one was here for Tara. Theoretically, she could just take off.

But then she looked around. No. She couldn’t do that. These people were all she had at the moment. If she left now, she’d have to start over in trying to convince someone that she was human. To say nothing about getting her changed back. At least Bobby and the Winchesters seemed to think it was possible. But then that still meant they had to survive the ghosts outside.

“Great.” Dean voiced Tara’s concluding thought, “Any ideas aside from staying in this room until Judgement Day?” Bobby tapped the table, and Tara moved so he could pull out a piece of paper.

“It’s a spell to send the Witnesses back to rest. Should work.” On the paper was a diagram annotated in the same language as the book was written in.

“Should?” Sam chuckled humorlessly, “Great.”

“If I translate it correctly. I think I got everything we need here in the house.”

“Any chance you got everything we need here in this room?”

“What, you thought our luck was gonna start now all of a sudden?” Tara’s laugh came out as a sneeze again, and Dean pointed at her.

“Well, Hershey’s not a black cat. That’s gotta count for something, right?” Tara glared at him a bit, but she didn’t really mean it.

“Spell’s gotta be cast over an open fire.” Bobby ignored Dean’s antics and started rummaging through the various weapons against the wall

“The fireplace in the library.”

“Bingo.” Bobby picked out a shotgun.

“That’s just not as appealing as a ghost-proof panic room, you know?” Sam huffed, but then set about getting the shotguns loaded.

While he and Dean saw to that, Bobby gathered everything he needed from the panic room for the spell. 

“You don’t have to come with, Tara.” He said, “Not much you can do to fend off a ghost.” Tara considered his words. He was giving her an easy out, but if they closed her in here, what would happen if they failed and the ghosts killed them? She would have no way to get out. Plus, if she wanted to get more involved with this kind of stuff, then the sooner she started the better.

As for fending off ghosts...her eyes drifted over to the bowl of salt Sam and Dean had been using to make salt rounds. 

Bobby and the Winchesters watched with rapt interest as she went over to the salt bowl, licked her paw, and rolled it around in the salt as best she could. When she pulled it back, some of the salt crystals had dissolved, but most of them stayed caught in her fur.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Dean exclaimed. 

“Alright.” Bobby said as she did her other front paw. He handed a book over to Dean in exchange for a shotgun.

“Cover each other, and aim careful. Don’t run outta ammo until I’m done or they’ll shred you. That means you too, Tara. Soon as you start helping us, they’ll be open to attack you.” Sam tucked the bowl of salt under one arm for her, and they all crowded the door.

“Ready?” They nodded, and Bobby yanked the lock free. He pushed the door open carefully, and Sam already had the shotgun pointed outwards. But he fired no shots. He exited the panic room, with Tara and Dean right behind. Bobby came last. 

The basement was clear, that is, until they got to the foot of the stairs. A large silhouette sat at the top. Tara could made out the dark, curly hair, but not much else. Dean was quick to point his shotgun at the man.

“Hey, Dean.” The man said, “You remember me?”

“Ronald, huh? With the laser eyes?” Dean grinned for a moment, but the seriousness was quick to return, “I wish I could say it’s goo to see you.”

“I am dead because of you.” Ronald said, and he stood up, “You were supposed to help me!” Bobby fired his shotgun, the sudden noise made Tara jump about a foot in the air. Ronald vanished in a cloud of embers and smoke.

“If you’re gonna shoot, shoot. Don’t talk.” Bobby said nonchalantly. He hed the way up the stairs. Dean took a steadying breath and checked in with Sam visually before they sprinted after him. Tara was hard-pressed to keep up with their long strides, but didn’t fall too far behind. She was surprised to see that it was dark outside when they got upstairs. Just how long had they been in the panic room? Long enough, apparently.

Once in the study, everyone sprang into action. Bobby set up his desk for the spell while Sam poured a thick salt circle around them and Dean lit the kindling in the fireplace. Tara once again felt useless, but she kept watch for ghosts.

“Upstairs.” Bobby said to Sam, “Linen closet. Red hex box, it’ll be heavy.” 

“Got it.” Sam bolted up the stairs, taking them three at a time. Suddenly, the girls from earlier appeared, just outside the salt circle.

“Bobby.” Both Dean and Bobby looked up from what they were doing. Dean went for the shotgun, the Tara was faster, springing forward and swiping at the girls with her salt-coated paws. Her paws went right through them, and they vanished upon contact, but they left Tara feeling cold inside. She shuddered, trying to make the chill go away.

“Kitchen. Cutlery drawer’s got a false bottom.” Dean was already moving, shotgun in hand, “Hemlock, opium, wormwood.” Wait, opium?

“Opium?” Dean had the same thought.

“Go!” Dean tossed up his hands and Bobby started drawing the first sigil on the desk in chalk.

“Bobby.” The girls were back, and Tara froze momentarily, not wanting to feel that chill again.

“You walked right by us while that monster ate us all up.”

“You could have saved us.” Bobby grabbed the shotgun, but he hesitated. That was all Tara needed to get a grip and pounce on the girls. The chill ran through her bones again, and the salt coating on her paws was getting thin. On the floor next to the desk, Tara saw the bowl of salt Sam had brought up. She bolted over to it and started refreshing the coating.

Something slammed behind her, making Tara jump and turn around. The kitchen doors had slid shut.

“Dean?”

“I’m alright, Bobby! Keep working!” Came his response. Bobby didn’t ask again, pulling some bowls out of the desk drawers. Tara started pacing. She heard Sam shoot something upstairs once, then a second time. Dean was taking too long in the kitchen, but she knew she couldn’t leave Bobby defenseless. 

“Bobby.” Tara didn’t hesitate this time, and sent the girls away before they could say anything more. Sam came thumping back down the stairs, with a large box tucked under his arm.

“I got it.” Bobby grabbed it from him and started pulling powders out of it, “Where’s Dean?” His eyes found the closed kitchen doors.

“Damn it.” He ran to them and pulled with all his might, but they refused to budge, “ _ Damn  _ it.” He raced around the long way. Tara heard the shotgun go off, and moments later, the doors slid open with ease. Dean dumped a slew of things on the desk just as another ghost appeared. But it wasn’t the girls. This time, it was the guy from the basement stairs. Ronald.

“Come on, Ron.” Dean said when he spotted him, “I thought we were pals.”

“That’s when I was breathing.” He responded, “Now I’m gonna eat you alive.” 

“Well,” Dean laughed as he loaded his shotgun, “Come on, I’m not a cheeseburger.” Tara swiped at him, but right before she made contact, he vanished. All it took Dean was one look at Tara to realize that she hadn’t made Ronald go away. Her fur was all fluffed up, especially her tail. It currently looked like a big, fuzzy caterpillar.

Bobby started chanting, having finishing preparing the ingredients in the bowl. 

Then the windows of the study slammed open, and a frigid wind blew in from outside. The salt line waved and broke, and the pages of the book containing the spell turned. Seeing an opportunity, Tara leapt onto the desk and pawed at the book, trying to get the pages to turn back. Bobby helped her, and once they were set, Tara planted her paws on the book, keeping it open to the right page. He started chanting again.

A shotgun went off behind her, and Tara turned her head just in time to see a girl about her age with blonde hair vanish, along with a taller African American man in a suit.

Bobby kept chanting. The wind tried once again to blow the book closed, but this time, Tara was ready. Locking her elbows and using the powerful muscles in her shoulders, she held the book wide open. 

The longer Bobby, chanted, the more frantic the shotgun shots sounded behind her. Sam and Dean barely exchanged two words, but they managed to keep Bobby covered.

Dean came into her line of sight for a half-second, just long enough to grab the fire poker. Suddenly, she could see Sam too. He was pinned against the wall by the hutch from the other side of the room. He pushed against the heavy piece of furniture with both hands, but to no avail.

“Sam!”

“Cover Bobby!” He shouted back, only to look up and find the twin girls sitting on the other end of the hutch. Bobby had the bowl elevated now, and was finishing the last incantation. Dean stood in front of the desk, brandishing the poker, and Sam struggled get free.

But then Bobby was cut off by his own yell of pain. Tara’s head snapped up from the book. Standing behind him was the blonde girl from earlier. Whatever she was doing was causing Bobby a great deal of pain.

“Bobby!?”

“Dean!” The bowl fell from Bobby’s hand, and Dean dove for it, catching it right before it hit the floor.

“Fireplace!” Bobby managed. At this point, Tara was pretty sure Bobby was done with the book, so she sprang at the blonde girl. Her paws went through her right as Dean dumped the contents of the bowl into the flames. The fire turned blue, and suddenly, Tara’s vision was overwhelmed by light. She clamped her eyes shut, but the light was so bright even then that it made her head pound. Vaguely, Tara was aware of landing on her feet, but she didn’t move until the light faded.

“Bobby?” Tara cautiously opened her eyes and for a moment, all she saw was darkness. She blinked a few times as her eyes adjusted once more to the low light. Bobby was on the floor next to her, and Dean was crouched over him. Sam grunted as he shoved the hutch away from his with ease. He stepped carefully around Tara and helped his brother get Bobby to his feet. All three of the were breathing hard, but the house was silent at they looked around.

Tara sniffed the air. She could still smell the tang of ozone, but for the most part, the spell’s remnants in the fireplace seemed to have purified the air of it when it sent the Witnesses back to rest. She walked over to the sofa, brushing against all three hunters on her way there. As the adrenaline faded, she realized just how tired she was, and the fact that it was dark outside now wasn’t helping, so she didn’t even try to fight it. She just laid down and closed her eyes.


	8. Interim

Before they went to sleep, Bobby, Sam, and Dean did their best to clean up the study. Tara all but passed out on the sofa, but they hadn’t been expecting her to help out anyway. Sam swept up the salt, Bobby cleaned his desk up, stowing the remnants of the ingredients for the spell and re-shelving his books, and Dean cleaned and reloaded the shotguns. When Sam finished sweeping, his eyes fell on the sleeping cat. Salt was still clinging to her front paws. She’d performed admirably in the crisis, even with the current disadvantage of being a cat. Although, she had a couple of unique advantages too; her nose being one of them.

Sam shook his head. They–well, Bobby–was going to find a way to reverse the spell, and once they did, she would walk out of their lives for good. No reason to get attached to her. 

He got a clean dishtowel from the kitchen and ran it under water for a few moments before going back to the sofa.

“Hey.” Sam patted her gently. Tara jerked awake, but relaxed when she saw it was Sam, “Hey. I’m gonna wash the salt off your paws, ok?” Tara glanced down at her paws. They had clumps of salt on them, and they were starting to itch. She hadn’t even thought about it when she laid down. She stuck one out to him, and Sam wasted no time gently rubbing the salt out of her fur with the towel.

Tara let her eyes drift shut again while he worked. It felt nice to have someone else look after her like this for once. It felt a little bit like getting a manicure–or would it technically be a pedicure? Whatever it was, it was nice.

When Sam finished, he opened his mouth to say something only to realize that Tara had fallen back asleep. He huffed softly, a smile creeping its way onto his face. Human or not, cats sure did sleep a lot. 

After he finished helping Dean and Bobby get the library back in order, Sam beat Dean at rock-paper-scissors for the sofa, and let himself drift off to sleep.

\------

Tara woke up to a rumbling stomach. When  _ was _ the last time she’d eaten something anyway? Yesterday? Late the night before? Whenever it was, it was too long ago. It was cloudy outside, but Tara guessed that it was around eight in the morning. Perfect time to find mice.

Stepping carefully around a sleeping Sam, Tara let herself out the front door. The fresh air was a relief to her nose. All that time spent in the Winchester’s car and then cooped up in the panic room really hadn’t agreed with her cat side. As she padded down the creaky front steps, Tara was grateful that Sam had washed the salt off her paws last night, because right now, the last thing she wanted was the taste of salt in her mouth messing up her morning hunt.

Sam wasn’t sure what woke him up. The sun was up, and the sky was mostly clear, but the house was silent. He stretched, rolled over, and was about to drift back off when he heard scratching.  _ That _ woke him up. Could one of the Witnesses still be around? He grabbed the shotgun and went to investigate. 

The scratching came a third time when he entered the entry hall, and suddenly, Sam realized what was happening. He laughed a bit, and leaned the shotgun against the wall before opening the front door. Tara was sitting right in front of it, tail wrapped around her paws.

“Well good morning to you too.” He said as she brushed past him, licking her chops. On the porch, Sam’s trained eyes spotted fresh blood and a few feathers, but before he could process it enough to get nauseous at the thought of having to eat a bird raw, a meow came from the kitchen. Sam closed the door.

“What’s up?” Tara was nudging an empty bowl sitting on the floor.

“Meow.” She looked at the sink, and Sam got the message.

“Right.” He refilled the bowl and put it down in front of her. 

At the sound of pottery clattering gently against the tile, Dean jerked awake. Sam went back into the study, leaving a happy Tara drinking the cold water. It had felt so good just to be out and about on her own this morning. After a small nest of mice, the finch had been her crowning kill of the morning. The clouds had cleared away in the couple hours that she’d been outside too, and it promised to be a warm one with good sun in the afternoon.

“You alright?” Tara glanced up at Sam’s voice, but he was talking to Dean, who still looked very tired, “What’s wrong, Dean?”

“So…” He hesitated, clearing his throat, “You got no problem believing in...God and angels?” Oh no, not this argument again!

“No, not really.” Sam finished buttoning his shirt and smoothed his hair down. When Dean didn’t fire back, Tara gave the conversation her full attention. Seriously, what was up with Dean?

“So I guess that means you believe in the devil.” 

“Why are you asking me all this?” Sam dodged the question. Dean just sat there, his thoughts running away with his grasp on reality.

Even after Sam repeated his question several times, Dean refused to answer him. Instead, he insisted that they wait until Bobby was up, so he didn’t have to repeat himself. That almost made Sam go wake Bobby himself, but then he remembered how dangerous it was to wake a sleeping Bobby.

So the boys spent the better part of an hour in silence, doing everything they could to ignore each other’s presence while Tara was caught in the middle. Both of them wanted her full attention and neither were getting it. The glares that Dean threw Sam and the bitchfaces Sam returned as she casually went back and forth between then quickly became too much.

By the time Bobby tromped downstairs, Tara had settled in her regular spot on the sofa and was pointedly grooming herself while Sam and Dean were on opposite ends of the room pretending to do research.

“What in the hell happened while I was sleep?” Bobby demanded.

Finally, Dean unloaded everything. The fact that Castiel had visited him in a dream, and more importantly, the news that he’d brought about the Seals, and what would happen as a result. Once the name Lucifer entered the conversation, Tara felt herself pass into a state of shock. Ghosts were one thing. And vampires, and werewolves, and even angels. But the devil himself? A part of her couldn’t believe it. 

And yet, nothing else would seemingly explain the severity of Sam and Bobby’s reactions. At first, Sam had chuckled a bit, incredulous, but that quickly faded. Bobby, on the other had, conveniently forgot to put coffee in his Irish coffee. 

One after the other, they questioned Dean and the information Castiel had relayed to him until the older Winchester stormed out to ‘get some air’. At this, Tara hopped up and followed him.

Dean ventured out into the aisles of cars, his own mind still reeling from the news. But when he sat down in the bed of a rusty red pickup, the last thing he expected was for a Tara to land next to him.

“Hey, Hershey.” He started petting her, “You sure picked a hell of a time to get into this life.” Tara gave a little laugh-sneeze. She couldn’t agree more.

Dean didn’t say anything to her. He didn’t have to. All he did was sit with her, petting her softly while he buried his emotions. More than once, memories of hell bubbled up, and every time, he forced them back down, grounding himself to reality through the brown cat purring next to him. Tara wasn’t sure what Dean was going through, if it was just the shock that Lucifer could rise soon or something else, but she knew it wasn’t her place to ask. So she contented herself to just sit in the sun with him and purr. Much like with Bobby, her silent presence had a calming effect on Dean, and since they were going to help her reverse the cat spell, then she was going to help them any way they needed.

\------

The Winchesters didn’t stay long. They figured that the best way to process the news would be to get back on the road, start hunting again, find their rhythm as a team, and then work on a way to stop the devil from kick-starting the end of the world. Tara was sad to see them go, but where things currently stood with the two of them and if their fight in the car on the way back to Bobby’s had been any indication, it was for the best. Besides, someone had to keep Bobby company.

After they left, things went almost back to the way they had been before Dean showed up. It was just Tara and Bobby in the house, and Bobby spent most of his time pouring over old books and answering phones. The big difference was in the way he interacted with Tara. Now that he knew she was human, he found himself talking to her. Not that he hadn’t before, but now that he knew she could understand him, he didn’t feel completely crazy doing so. He would also share his food. Whenever he made something with meat in it, he would put some on a plate for her and she’d eat with him.

Additionally, Bobby started teaching her about everything that hunters hunted, from how to gather evidence off a dead body to how to kill just about anything that went bump in the night. He also started trying to teach her some of the different languages his books were in, but since learning a language was more hands-on than learning about monsters, that wasn’t going as well.

What  _ had _ helped make their conversations a bit less one-sided was an idea Bobby got a few weeks after Sam and Dean had left. A hunter had stumbled across a very strange case: the ghost of a teenager had attached itself to the spirit board of a travelling psychic. The hunter had personally seen it moving the planchette all around the board before setting it ablaze.

But that had given Bobby an idea. Using an old piece of plywood, he had created a board with letters, numbers, and common words in addition to ‘yes’ and ‘no’ for Tara to use. It took forever to give ask a question or give a complex answer, but it still helped him get to know her a little better.

“Ok.” Bobby set this board on the floor of the study on a chilly, mid-October morning, “Let’s give this a whirl.” Tara sat up, and when she realized what it was, she hopped down to the floor.

“I’ve got feelers out to everyone I know about the witch who turned you, but it would help to have a name.” Tara reached out, testing the movement of the planchette. The wood wasn’t polished, the it didn’t slide very easily, but it was a million times better than meowing at him. With a paper and pen in hand, Bobby wrote down the letters Tara indicated.

“Riley, huh? No last name?” Tara thought about it, scouring her few memories of Riley, but came up empty. Reluctantly, she moved the planchette over to the word ‘no’.

“Alright, that’s fine.” Bobby waved his hand dismissively, “Can you give me a description?” While lanky, blonde, and freckles with a side of glasses wasn’t exactly a unique portrait, Bobby assured her that every detail helped. Tara also recalled that Riley really wasn’t much taller than her, probably 5 foot 9 at the most. She also relayed the route she’d taken before she found Bobby. At least, what she could remember of it. 

“I’ll get someone to go check out the area. But what about you, Tara? Where are you from?” Tara froze up at the question, but covered by batting at the planchette, pretending that it was stuck on a snag in the wood.

“Oregon.” Came her answer. Bobby narrowed his eyes. She’d been more than talkative when discussing Riley, but one personal question and she clams up? 

He asked her a few more questions before she stretched and walked away. The whole time, she was evasive and vague when he asked about her background. All he’d managed to learn was that this had been her first year at UND, was studying linguistics, and had lived in an on-campus apartment instead of a dorm. In an attempt to get her to open back up, Bobby asked about how Riley had approached her, and why he may have targeted her. 

At this, Tara had merely said, “He knew I wouldn’t be missed.” 

That night, once Tara had fallen asleep on the sofa, Bobby took his cell upstairs and called Sam. Before they’d left, Bobby had asked Sam to do some checking into Tara if he had a moment, since Internet research was more Sam’s area of expertise. 

It rang twice before Sam picked up.

“Hey, Bobby.” His voice was rusty with sleep, “What’s up?”

“Did you do that background on Tara?” Sam winced, suddenly wide awake.

“I’m sorry, Bobby. Lemme do it now. We just finished a case and Dean is...out.” He didn’t need to elaborate where. 

While Bobby explained Tara’s evasive behavior from earlier, Sam used the little information she’d provided to narrow down his search.

“Alright, I found her.” Sam said a few minutes later, “Tara Jones. Twenty one years old, grew up in a suburb of Portland, her parents still live there...Huh.”

“What is it?”

“According to her records, she got into the linguistics program at the University of Seattle-Washington with a full ride. But she transferred to the University of North Dakota at the last second over the summer. No current address listed.”

“She said she lived in an apartment on campus.” Bobby supplied, “And that Riley nabbed her during the first week of classes.” He paused, “She also said no one would miss her.” Sam sighed at that.

“And it looks like she may have been right. No missing persons report has been filed for her, or anyone matching her description. Her professors probably think she’s slacked off.” Bobby could hear Sam typing on the other end of the line.

“But here’s what I don’t get.”

“Yeah?”

“Why transfer at all? I mean, the University of North Dakota has no linguistics program, only a minor. So why would she leave one of the best programs in the country, not to mention her full ride and 4.0 GPA?”

“You think she’s running from something?”

“Or some _ one _ . But whatever it is, it’s not on her record that I can see.”

“Alright.” Bobby rubbed his forehead.

“You gonna confront her about it?” Sam asked.

“No. We promised we’d help her, and the last thing we want is to scare her off.”

\------

“Tara? Tara.” Someone was squeezing her shoulder. Tara jerked away from the contact, her eyes flicking around the room. She recognized it immediately. The two twin beds, the matching desks, the identical wardrobes, right down to the fairy lights hanging from the Command strips on the wall. After seeing as a cat for so long, the colors of the decor seemed too bright, too varied to be real. Tara blinked, trying to adjust to the red quilt on the farther of the two beds.

“Hey.” A warm mug was pressed into her hands, and a face hovered not too far from her own, “I made you some tea.”

“Thanks, Monica.” Tara heard herself say. The bleach-blonde girl rubbed her arm.

“You ready for tonight?” Tara tightened her grip on the mug, ignoring how the heat from the water inside made her palms tingle. Just at the mention of it, a weight built up in Tara’s chest.

“No.” She whispered, “But I know I have to do it.”

“Attagirl.” Monica embraced her gently, “Everything’s going to be ok. I promise.”

Tara sipped the tea, enjoying the sweet aftertaste it left on the roof of her mouth.

“I hope you’re right.”

\------

Tara jerked awake only to find herself on the sofa in the study. The muted colors were back, and she was still a cat. But her heart was racing. She hadn’t had a dream that vivid in a long time, and that it should come now was disquieting.

But she knew the cause for the bad dream, and it was only partly due to Bobby’s questioning her last week. At first, being a cat had been fun. It had been a much-needed break from humanity and an excuse to just sit back and watch the world go by. Now though, Tara felt trapped. She could only handle so much theoretical learning before she wanted to get some practical experience. She wanted to go on a hunt.

Tara had expressed as much to Bobby, but he’d just shaken his head.

“There ain’t much you can do on a hunt as a cat.” He pointed out.

“I know.” She’d answered. But that didn’t change the fact that she felt just a little bit trapped. Ok, maybe more than a little bit.

It didn’t help that there hadn’t been any news on Riley. Bobby had strong-armed Garth into poking around UND, even going so far as to ask Professor Morrison about him, but he’d come up empty. Either Riley wasn’t his actual name or he’d fled long ago. Tara didn’t like hearing that her best hope of getting changed back was in the wind, but Bobby assured her that he wasn’t out of tricks yet. 

All Tara could do was hope. Hope that they found a way to change her back before another memory haunted her in her sleep. Everything was out of her control now, and she hated it.

  
  



	9. Fear is a Funny Thing

The next time Bobby heard from Sam, it was early in the morning. When Tara came back in from her dawn hunt, the pads of her paws just a little chilled by the morning, Bobby was on the phone.

“Hold on,” He said as he opened the door to let her in, “Dean is scared of what now?” That got Tara’s attention. She’d asked about the Winchesters a couple times in the past weeks, but Bobby had just said they were hunting across the country and that he only heard from them if they needed help identifying a creature or lore on how to kill it.

“Ok, hang on.” Bobby pulled a couple books off the shelf and sat down at his desk. Tara hopped up too, and meowed as loudly as she could.

“Was that Tara?” She heard Sam on the other end, “Hey Tara.”

“It sounds like Dean caught ghost sickness.” Bobby said, and Tara cocked her head. What was ghost sickness? Sam asked the same question.

“It’s a disease that comes from ghosts. Some cultures believed that the dead could infect the living, which is where the idea of funeral homes came from. Symptoms are increasing paranoia and fear about pretty much everything. Within 48 hours after exposure, it gets so bad it brings on a heart attack.”

“But we haven’t seen a ghost recently.” Sam said.

“I doubt he caught it from a ghost–after patient zero, it spreads like any other sickness. You said you’re investigating a bunch ‘a guys who dropped dead from heart attacks. You guys talk to any of them before they croaked? Or visit one in the morgue?”

“Yeah, yesterday morning.”

“Either of you touch the stiff?” Tara heard Sam chuckle a bit.

“You could say that. We had the coroner do an autopsy and he made Dean hold the heart.”

“That’s probably when he contracted it, then.”

“But here’s the thing. I got sprayed in the face with blood, so shouldn’t I have it too?” Tara gagged.

“Not necessarily.” Bobby was searching for a particular passage, “It says here that ghost sickness ‘returns the fear you have dealt’.”

“So if you use fear as a weapon, you’re susceptible?

“Looks like.”

“Then what’s the cure? Dean’s only got twenty four hours left!”

“Ghost sickness comes from a ghost, so salt and burn the body, just like any other I guess. Take out the source and just hope the rest follows. But I’ll do some checking.”

“Yeah, alright, Bobby. Keep looking.” Sam hung up, and Bobby sighed.

“Would it kill either one of those idjits to just say thank you once in a while?”

Bobby and Tara spent the rest of the day researching. Well, after Tara got through the lore in English and some of the Latin content, there wasn’t much she could do aside from sit and keep Bobby company. The day was mostly cloudy and somewhat chilly, a sure sign that fall was officially here, but instead of going out to enjoy the cooler weather, Tara stayed.

Finally, long after midnight, Bobby opened the last book. It was a small, thin volume, and Tara recognized the characters inside as Japanese. God, if she just had some time to learn these languages, not only would the research go faster, but she could really travel the world.

“I’ve got it!” Bobby exclaimed suddenly, making Tara jump. She’d been sprawled on the desk, snoozing under the reading light. Holding the book open with one hand, Bobby pulled out his phone and dialed Sam.

“Bobby, I need your help, I can’t find Dean.” Sam’s voice was rushed and his breathing quick.

“Woah, slow down. What do you mean, ‘can’t find him’?”

“He just ran off! We were finished interviewing someone and he started saying all this stuff about us being insane, and then he ran off. I can’t find him anywhere, Bobby.”

“Alright. Send me the address of where you’re staying, I’m on my way.” He hung up and snapped the book shut. Tara jumped up too at the prospect of going somewhere.

“Sorry, Tara–” She raced over to where her board sat on the floor.

“But I can help! Animals calm people down!” Bobby crossed his arms.

“This isn’t a ploy to get outta here, is it?”

“No!” She insisted quickly, pushing the planchette so hard it nearly went flying off the board, “It’s been proven. I might be able to help Dean.” Bobby sighed.

“Alright then.” He tossed some food, her treats, and board into the bag he had packed for emergencies, “Come on.”

\------

While en route, Bobby called Sam again to get the lowdown on the ghost they were up against. Sam had found Dean by then, fortunately, and was able to corroborate Tara’s theory that her presence might buy Dean some extra time. 

Bobby pulled into the Bluebird Motel parking lot just after the sun came up, but before the town woke up. Sam was in the parking lot, leaning casually against his and Dean’s car. Bobby reached across the front seat and let Tara out. 

Instead of jumping down, Tara leapt up onto the hood of the sleek black car, going up over the roof to where Sam was leaning.

“Howdy, Sam.” 

“Hey, Bobby. Hi, Tara.” He scratched under her jaw, “Hey, thanks for coming so quick.” Bobby was looking around.

“Where’s Dean?”

“Uh,” Sam pulled himself up so he was sitting on the car and Tara laid down next to him, “Home sick. But speaking of, we should probably get you in to him.”

“So have his hallucinations started yet?”

“Yeah, a few hours ago.” Sam answered.

“How we doing on time?”

“We saw the coroner about 8am Monday morning, so, just under two hours.” He double checked his watch to confirm that, “So hopefully, Tara, you can stretch that to 8:30.” Tara meowed in what she hoped was an affirmative way.

“Ok, great, ummm.” Sam shrugged off his jacket and laid it down on the hood, “I’m not sure how the motel will feel about cats, but better safe than sorry…” His eyes were wide and apologetic. Reluctantly, Tara crawled onto the jacket. Once she was settled, Sam bundled her in it, careful to conceal, but not suffocate her. Then, he rushed into the motel with his awkward bundle.

Tara really didn’t like being carried this way. She could barely tell which way was up and she couldn’t see where they were going. The material of the jacket muffled all sounds, and the only things she could smell were old books, leather, and Sam’s cologne. 

Finally, Sam got into his and Dean’s room and kicked the door shut behind him. Dean was sitting on the sofa watching a cartoon and scratching absentmindedly at his forearms. When the door shut behind Sam, he jumped and cried out.

“Gah! Don’t do that!”

“Stop scratching, Dean.” Tara felt herself being lowered onto a solid surface. The jacket covering her was pulled away, and she could finally see where they were. 

The room was slightly larger than she expected, with two distinct areas plus a bathroom. The door opened into a living area with a coffee table, sofa, and TV and then the second area, off to the left, had two queen beds.

Dean’s forearms were bleeding, she could smell the coppery tang in the air, along with sweat. No doubt from Dean as well, given the sheen on his forehead.

“Heya, Hershey.”

“Ok, Bobby and I are gonna head to the mill and fix this. I’ll call before we go in. Hang in there.” Dean just kind of nodded and Sam left. Once the door closed, Tara hopped up on the coffee table and pawed at Dean’s knee. He’d started scratching at his arms again.

“I know, I know.” He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart, “Come here.”

Dean turned off the TV, mourning the fact that it was shark week and he was missing it. After the cartoons had fallen through, he’d tried to watch it, but even the slightest mention of how many teeth a shark has made his head light. So he just tried to focus on his breathing and the cat purring away on his lap.

Tara was content to just sit and have Dean pet her. For the moment, it seemed to be working. What made her a little nervous were the hallucinations that Sam had alluded to. She wasn’t sure how she would be able to help with those, but maybe if Sam and Bobby hurried, she wouldn’t have to.

About twenty minutes after Sam left, Dean’s phone rang. He started a bit, but not as badly as when Sam had shut the door earlier.

“Hey.”

“Hey. So, uh, just ride out the trip, ok?” Tara sat up so she could hear Sam better, “You’re gonna be fine. We got a plan.”

“What is it?” Dean’s voice shook a bit.

“Uh, just a good plan, alright? Hang in there.” Well Sam was certainly not the best actor. Apparently, Dean saw right through it too. He tossed the phone back on the table.

“I fucking hate this.” He started petting Tara again, and she noted that his hand was shaking.

For awhile, Dean was fine. He put all his focus into the brown cat on his lap and tuned everything else out. His heart was still racing, but it wasn’t getting any faster. That is, until he noticed her claws. They were long, thin, and ended in wicked-looking hooks. Just one swipe and she could take his eye out or rip his skin off just as easily as a hellhound.

A dog howled in the distance, making his heart pound harder.

When Dean started, his eyes flicking around the room, Tara followed his gaze, confused. Nothing had moved, and she hadn’t heard anything either. Was he hallucinating?

The dog’s growl had grown louder, morphing into a snarl behind him. Dean twisted around, nearly throwing Tara off his lap, but the bedroom behind him was empty.

Then came the pounding on the door. Tara leapt down, her fur standing on end. That was  _ definitely _ real. And it couldn’t be Sam. Dean was still scared out of his mind, and plus, Sam had a key.

The pounding on the door only got louder, more aggressive, and Dean crouched behind the chair. Tara moved under the coffee table, partially concealing herself, right as the lock on the door broke and it swung open. 

The man on the other side was neither Sam nor Bobby, but someone older than both of them. He was dressed in a light colored police uniform. Sweat was beaded on his forehead and he had a gun in his hand.

“Sheriff?” Dean buried his fear as best he could and stood up, “What are you doing?”

“Why are you looking into Luther Garland’s death?”

“H-hey, you–you’re sick.” Dean stammered, pointing at something Tara couldn’t see from under the coffee table, “You’re sick. You’re sick, alright? Just like me, ok? You gotta relax–” The sheriff struck Dean across the face, knocking him backwards.

“Frank O’Brian as my friend.” The sheriff shouted, “So he made a mistake. So I didn’t bust him. So what?” He was breathing hard. It looked like he was going to attack again, and Tara didn’t know what to do.

“And you’re gonna bring me down over that?! No, sir.” He pointed his gun at Dean and Tara just reacted. Her paw shot out from under the table, sneaking under the slightly too short pant leg and raking the sheriff’s ankle through his sock. Her claws ripped through the material with very little effort and left trails of blood in their wake.

“Ah! What the–” Dean struck while the sheriff was distracted, batting the gun out of his hand. It skittered across the floor into the TV stand, but the sheriff wasn’t deterred. He shoved Dean back, pinning him against the wall. He held him there with one forearm against his throat, and with the other, he began to punch Dean.

Tara rushed to help, but she only got one hit in before the sheriff kicked at her. It was a blind strike, but she still wasn’t able to dodge it completely. His heavy shoe collided with her right shoulder and sent her flying back a couple feet. Pain shot up her leg when she landed. Nothing was broken, but it sure did smart.

When the sheriff had kicked at her, he’d taken part of his attention off Dean, giving the seasoned hunter the opening he needed. He threw the sheriff off him and right onto the coffee table. The glass shattered and the wood splintered as the sheriff hit it and then the floor. For a terrible half-second, Tara thought he was dead, but then he gasped, reaching toward Dean with one hand and clutching his chest with the other.

“Get away from me!”

“Al, you gotta calm down.”

“Step back!” Both hands were clutching his chest now. The sheriff seized a couple times, and then went still.

Tara felt like she was going to puke, but managed to keep her food down. People died around the Winchesters and Bobby all the time, and if she was even going to think about sticking around, even as more of a loremaster, then she’d better get used to it.

For a moment, Dean seemed a little helpless on what to do. He was looking around, as if something else was suddenly going to appear and attack him. When nothing did, Dean took as deep a breath as he could, pulled the spotted duvet off ones of the beds and covered the sheriff’s body where it laid.

“You ok, Hershey?” He didn’t seem to realize that the sheriff had kicked her, and she was going to keep it that way. 

“Meow.” Dean let out a long exhale.

“Good.” He sat down on the bed that still had its duvet on it, “C’mere.” He patted the space next to him.

Dean was fine for a few minutes, but then he stopped petting her and started scratching his forearms. There were all red, and he’d broken the skin the several places.

“Meow.” Tara pawed at him, trying to get him to stop, but Dean leapt away.

“No! Keep those claws away from me!” He could see the traces of the sheriff’s blood in her claws, an all-too-strong reminder of how much she could hurt him. Tara pulled away reluctantly, wishing there was a way she could call Bobby or Sam. Her talking board wasn’t in here, and even if it was, she doubted Dean would patiently wait for her to spell anything out.

Reaching down, Dean grabbed a black book from the duffel bag at the side of the bed and held it close, clinging to it like a lifeline. Tara realized it was the Bible. He closed his eyes, rocking back and forth, trying to make the Bible all his senses registered. The smell of the old pages, the feeling of the worn, cool leather against his face and hands, all of it.

Tara watched cautiously as he seemed to calm down, and allowed herself to relax a bit as well.

Suddenly, Dean’s eyes shot open and he looked right at Tara. No, at something just to her right. Something that wasn’t there. 

“No.” He growled, turning away again, “No.”

Then he jumped, like something had grabbed him, and stood up, angling his body like he was trying to shake off an invisible spiderweb.

“You are  _ not _ real!” He pointed at the hallucination, refusing to even look in the direction of the bed. His breath was hissing between his bared teeth. But then, his eyes seemed to get the better of him, drifting over to the edge of the bed.

Tara could see the fear in his eyes, poorly masked by anger and defiance. He stepped back one step, and then another, his accusatory finger slowly falling back to his side. The lip he had curled in a sneer began to tremble, and then his eyes shot over to her.

“Tara, no!” No? No what? He looked back at the hallucination, which seemed to have gotten up from the bed, “You bring her back!” Tara bolted to her feet, waving her tailed and meowing as loudly as she could.

_ “I’m right here!” _ She wanted to scream. But she couldn’t.

“Ugh.” Dean grabbed at his chest and his knees gave. He fell onto all fours, heaving.

“You are not real.” Something jerked his head up by his chin, and his mask of anger slipped even more. Tara could see tears threatening to form and fall in his eyes, which were focused on something mere inches from his face.

“Why me? Why’d I get infected?” He asked the thin air. His breathing was faster now, bordering on pants.

“Wh–ung.” He clutched at his chest again, curling up and rolling away towards the wall. His eyes were wide with fear, and Tara knew he only had seconds left. She leapt from the bed and rushed to his side, rubbing up against him, purring, but nothing seemed to have any effect. He just kept glaring at the hallucination.

His whole body tensed, and Dean gasped for air. Dean went still, and for a horrible moment, Tara thought he was dead. But then, he gasped, jerking back to life. The pain in his chest dissipated, and air flooded his lungs. It made him cough at first, but Dean didn’t care. The paralyzing terror was gone. He pulled at his sleeves, checking his forearms for the road rash, but it was gone.

That’s when he noticed Tara, crouched beside him, sparking brown eyes wide with concern.

“Oh, thank God.” He reached out to pet her, “Lillith snapped your neck. I thought…” He trailed off, but Tara knew well enough what he was going to say. He thought she had become yet another person he’d gotten killed.

\------

When Sam and Bobby got back, Dean worked with them and they cleaned up the room as best they could before packing up and heading out. None of the wanted to be around when housekeeping discovered the sheriff’s body.

Once they got back to the old mill, Dean broke out the beer and the other explained how they’d gotten rid of Luther Garland’s spirit. Sam and Dean leaned against their car, and Bobby on his. Tara had stretched out on top of the Impala, since its roof was flatter, basking in the sun. Her talking board was sitting next to her.

“So you guys road-hauled a ghost.” Dean confirmed again. Bobby turned down the offered beer, “With a chain?”

“ _ Iron  _ chain.” Sam clarified, “Etched with spellwork.”

“Hmm. That’s a new one.” Dean took a long gulp.

“It’s what he was most afraid of. It was pretty brutal, though.”

“On the upside, I’m still alive, so, uh, go team!”

“Yeah.” Sam was glad Dean was back to his normal self. At least on the outside, “How you feeling, by the way?”

“Fine.”

“You sure, Dean?” Bobby pressed, “Cause this line of work can get awful scary.”

“I’m fine.” He said again, with more force behind the second word, “You wanna go hunting? I’ll hunt. I’ll kill anything!” 

“Aww.” Sam teased.

“He’s adorable.” Bobby and Sam shared a laugh. Tara sneezed along with them, but couldn’t ignore one thing. Sam’s laughter had shaken a flock of butterflies loose in her stomach, and she felt her facial muscles try to pull upwards into a smile.

“We gotta get outta here.” Bobby said, reaching over and grabbing the talking board off the Impala.

No. Was the first thought that shot through Tara’s mind. This was the most excitement that she’d felt in weeks. Of course it had been scary, but now that it was over, she felt great. If she went back with Bobby now, who knew when she would have another adventure like this next?

Her paw darted out, pinning the talking board to the roof. Her fast and sudden movement made all three hunters jump.

“Tara?” Bobby asked, “What is it?” He slid the talking board back onto the roof.

“I want to go with them.” Was the first thing Tara said, “If they’ll let me.” While Sam and Dean were surprised at the request, Bobby had seen it coming.

“Tara, we’ve been over this. There’s not much you can do on a hunt.”

“But I can try! Please?” She looked from one Winchester to the other, “I can’t sit still any longer.”

Sam looked at Dean. He was willing to let her along, give her a trial period, but he had to keep in mind that there was a lot about her that he hadn’t been able to find out. However, he could also relate with what she was feeling. Wanting to get out of her current situation, run away, if even just for a little while.

Dean shrugged.

“I don’t see why not, at least for a little while. But,” He raised a finger at her, “You hurt my Baby, you’re done.” Tara couldn’t roll her eyes, so she made a circle with her head and hoped she got the message across.

“Deal.” She spelled out.

“Alright then.” Bobby tried not to let his disappointment seep into his tone, “Looks like your mind’s made up.” He pulled her treats out of his duffel bag.

“Meow!” Her verbal complaint pulled all attention back to her.

“Give me a minute with him?” She asked Sam and Dean. They both politely went off about twenty feet, and Sam started telling Dean how they’d set up the trap for Luther’s ghost.

“I don’t mean to hurt you.” Tara spelled out for Bobby, “You’ve been nothing but good to me. I just need some time.” Bobby sighed.

“I know. I guess I got used to having a permanent house mate. If this is what you think is right for you, then do it. But, if you ever need a break from it or if it gets to be too much, my door is always open.”

“Thanks, Bobby.” He blushed a bit.

“Ah, stop it.” He scratched her behind the ear, “You boys drive safe, now.” He said loud enough to bring Sam and Dean back.

“You too, Bobby.” Bobby got back in his car, “And thanks.” 

The three of them watched as Bobby drove off.

“So uh, so what did you see?” Sam asked, “Near the end, I mean.”

“Oh, besides a cop beating my ass?”

“Seriously.” Dean stalled, looking at Tara a moment. She was watching him intently, interested to see if he’d be honest. He glanced back at Sam, and for a second Tara thought he would be, but then something changed.

“Howler monkeys. A whole roomful of them.” Sam sighed, “Those things creep the hell outta me.”

“Right.” Sam took a sip of his beer and studied Tara carefully. From the expression on her face, she not only knew that Dean was lying, but she knew what he’d seen.

“No, no. Just the usual stuff, Sammy. Nothing I couldn’t handle.” Dean too a long drink. 

Tara wasn’t quite sure where she stood in this, if she should tell Sam the truth. Dean certainly hadn’t been able to handle it, but maybe Sam had some things going on too that she didn’t know about, and Dean didn’t want to put anything else on his plate. One thing was for sure though. Being on the road with them was going to be a lot more interesting than being at Bobby’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know some of you are eager to learn Tara's backstory, and I promise that'll happen in the next few chapters.


	10. Urban Legends

Being on the road with Sam and Dean was certainly different than living with Bobby. She’d only been with them for a week or so, and already they’d gone almost all the way to New York. So far, they’d taken care of two hauntings and destroyed a cursed pair of earrings that had taken a liking to poking their owner’s eyes out while they slept. It had actually been Tara who noticed that both of its most recent victims had been wearing the diamond studs in the crime scene photos.

True, there wasn’t much else that she could do on hunts, usually she just hung out in the motel room, but the Winchesters had more lore books in English that she could pass the time with. And it was fun to see parts of the country that she never thought she’d see otherwise.

They’d been on their way back to Bobby’s when Dean stumbled across a case in the middle of Michigan. Luke Wallace, a man in a small town not too far out of the way had died after eating Halloween candy with razor blades in it. But it wasn’t just that that caught Dean’s attention. It was the fact that there had been four blades in one piece of candy.

“Hey, it could be our kind of thing.” He’d said, “I mean, when have you ever heard of this razor blades in candy crap actually happening?” Sam had just shrugged and gone along with it.

The motel they were in now was nicer than the last one. It was a long, rectangular room with a circular table and two chairs by the door, two queen beds, and a sofa and coffee table on the far side. The walls were dark wood panelling and instead of just having a window next to the door, the other side of the room opened into a private little patio.

Sam and Dean had already done their initial interview of Wallace’s wife, but Dean had run out again to avoid doing research. He’d found a little pouch under the Wallace’s fridge and Sam was currently going through it. The pouch was open on the coffee table and Sam was consulting a pair of books as well as his computer as he went through the stuff inside. Tara was sitting next to him on the sofa.

“So this is a hex bag.” He explained to her, “Witches use them, normally to kill someone they have a grudge against. Now, the cloth is usually cut from something the victim owned, or else the hex will just go after the first person it finds. But it’s the contents of the bag that can tell you something about the witch.” He picked up a dried plant with a curved stem that ended in a little flower and referenced one of the books.

Sam opened his mouth to say something, but the door opened and Dean came waltzing in. He tossed the car keys down on the table and unwrapped a chocolate bar. 

“Really?” Sam chuckled, “After that guy choked down all those razor blades?”

“It’s Halloween, man.”

“Yeah. For us, every day is Halloween.” Dean plopped down on the arm of the sofa and reached down to pat Tara.

“Don’t be a downer.” He said, still chewing the candy, “Anything interesting?”

“Well, we’re on a witch hunt. That’s for sure.” Sam turned his attention back to the opened hex bag, “But this isn’t your typical hex bag.” Dean leaned down to examine the contents.

“Hmm, no?” Sam picked up the plant again. 

“Goldthread. An herb that’s been extinct for 200 years. And this,” He picked up the coin, “Is celtic. And I don’t mean some new age knock-off, this looks like the real deal, like 600-years-old real.” Dean had picked up the other thing from the hex bag, a little black stick, and was sniffing it.

“And that is the charred metacarpal bone of a newborn baby.” Tara’s head snapped over to Sam. Surely not? Dean cringed and put it down as fast as he could.

“Oh, gross.”

“Relax, man.” Sam picked it up, “It’s like, at least a hundred years old.” Like that was supposed to make it better?

“Oh, right, like that makes it better?” Dean voiced Tara’s thoughts, “Witches, man. They’re so frickin’ skeevy.” He shuddered and moved to sit on the closer bed.

“Yeah. Well, it takes a pretty powerful one to put a bag like this together. More juice than we’ve ever dealt with before, that’s for sure. What about you, you find anything on the victim?”

“This Luke Wallace–he was so vanilla that he made vanilla seem spicy.” Tara sneezed and Sam laughed.

“I can’t find any reason why someone would want this guy dead.” Tara hopped down and went to where her talking board was sitting on the entry table. Dean followed her, and cackled at the message she wrote out.

“What?” Sam asked.

“It killed him to be interesting.” Dean said. Sam just shook his head.

\------

There wasn’t much that could be done other than research, so that’s exactly what they did. Dean moaned and groaned about it, but when Tara gave him a pointed look before sitting down in front of a book herself, he sucked it up.

Since Tara couldn’t survive on jerky and junk food, Sam had gone out to get a salad with chicken on the side from a nearby diner around six in the evening but other than that, the room was silent save for the turning of pages, the clacking of computer keys, and Dean’s exasperated sighs.

At 10:30, just when they were all starting to run out of steam, a police scanner crackled to life. Tara didn’t know the number codes by heart yet, but she didn’t need to. Sam and Dean sprang into action, abandoning their research and throwing their FBI getups back on.

“We’ll be back in a couple hours, Hershey. Go ahead and get some rest.” He’d read her mind. They turned off the lights to avoid attracting attention, and as soon as the door shut behind them, Tara curled up on one of the beds and let herself drift off.

\------

“I’m telling you,” A loud voice made Tara jerk awake. Bright light flooded her retinas, making her squint. She located Dean right off, sitting at the round table. He was on his computer, and another hex bag was sitting just to the left of it, surrounded by candy wrappers.

“There’s the sleeping beauty!” Dean abandoned his train of thought, “You didn’t even stir when we got back.” Tara gave him a wide, toothy yawn as a response.

“There was another witch killing.” Sam explained, pulling Tara’s attention to where he was sitting on the neighboring bed, “A high schooler at a Halloween party.” They’d been trying to break her in slowly with how gruesome and sad hunting could really be, but this one was just hard to sugarcoat. 

She took the news in stride with a simple nod and turned back to Dean as he finished his earlier statement.

“Both of these vics are squeaky-clean. There was no reason for wicked bitch payback.”

“Maybe cause its not about that.” Sam had his eyes locked on the book in his hands.

“Wow. Insightful.” Dean’s sass went ignored.

“Maybe this witch isn’t working a grudge. Maybe they’re working a spell, check this out.” He read directly from the book, “‘Three blood sacrifices over three days–the last before midnight on the final day of the final harvest.’” He got up and walked over to the entry table, putting the book on top of Dean’s closed laptop.

“Celtic calendar–the final day of the final harvest is October 31st.”

“Halloween?”

“Exactly.” Tara got up and went over to the table. Dean picked her up so she could see the book too. The page on the left was all text, but the one on the right was a drawing of people standing in front of a grave that had smoke rising out of it.

“What exactly are the, uh, blood sacrifices for?” 

“If I’m right, this witch is summoning a demon. And not just any demon. Samhain.” Tara had no idea who that was.

“Am I supposed to be impressed?” Sam scoffed a bit.

“Dean, Samhain is the damn origin of Halloween. The Celts believed that October 31st was the one night of the year when the veil was thinnest between the living and the dead.” Dean turned the page, and Tara’s eyes caught on a drawing of a tall, muscled man with ram horns holding a sword in one hand and a head in the other. Around him was all carnage.

“And it was Samhain’s night.” Sam continued, “I mean, masks were put on to hide from him, sweets left on doorsteps to appease him, faces carved into pumpkins to worship him. He was exorcised centuries ago.” Well that was a relief. Although now that she looked closer, the face in the drawing did bear a little resemblance to some of the more scary pumpkin carvings Tara had seen in the past.

“So even though Samhain took a trip downstairs, the tradition stuck.” Dean said.

“Exactly. Only now instead of demons and blood orgies, Halloween is all about kids, candy, and costumes.” Aaand now Tara’s childhood was ruined. She looked forward to Halloween every year, even if her costume was just a pair of fake vampire fangs. She winced a bit. Knowing that vampires were real made the fangs a little less appealing now.

“Ok, so some witch wants to raise Samhain and take back the night?”

“Dean, this is serious.”

“I am serious!” He protested. Tara rolled her eyes inwardly, but she had to admit it did sound like a really bad joke.

“We’re talking heavyweight witchcraft. This ritual can only be performed every 600 years.”

“And the 600-year marker rolls around...?”

“Tomorrow night.”

“Naturally.” He looked down at the picture again, “Well it sure is a lot of death and destruction for one demon.”

“That’s cause he likes company. Once he’s raised, Samhain can do a little raising of his own.”

“Raising what exactly?” Dean turned the page, revealing another scene of graves with smoke rising from them. Only this one featured stuff crawling out of said graves too.

“Dark, evil crap, and lots of it. They follow him around like the friggin’ Pied Piper.”

“So we’re talking ghosts.”

“Yeah.”

“Zombies?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Leprechauns?” Tara sneezed. Those had to be one of those things that were  _ actually _ made up.

“Dean.” 

“Those little dudes are scary! Small hands.”

“Look, it just starts with ghosts and ghouls. This sucker keeps on going. By night’s end we’re talking every awful thing we’ve ever seen, everything we fight all in one place.” Tara felt a chill run down her spine. They would have just kept on driving if Dean hadn’t insisted on checking out the guy that choked on razor blades in his candy.

“It’s gonna be a slaughterhouse.” All the amusement was gone from Dean’s tone.

\------

With nothing else that could be done, Sam and Dean reluctantly let Tara talk them into getting some sleep. It wasn’t until they had turned the lights out and she’d settled in on the sofa that she realized her problem. 

The sofa was very uncomfortable. The embroidery was itchy and the cushions were so firm they were almost like rocks. Plus the back was too narrow for her to lay on.

Tara didn’t know how long she tried to sleep, but eventually, she gave up and hopped down. 

Sam jerked awake at the soft thumping noise, only to see Tara down on the floor in the dim light streaming in through the patio door. Her tail was waving in an annoyed manner.

“Psst.” The hissing noise made Tara jump, but it was only Sam. He was half-sitting up, his eyes half closed with sleep. She felt a twinge of guilt run through her. She’d tried to get down as quietly as possible.

“Can’t sleep?” He whispered. When Tara shook her head, Sam patted the space next to him.

“Come here. There’s room.” Tara hesitated. In all the other motels, it hadn’t been a problem sleeping on the sofa. She also wasn’t too keen on sharing a bed with someone else. Not that she had something against Sam specifically, she just liked her space.

“Are you gonna make me come pick you up? Come on. There’s no sense in you not sleeping.” Tara huffed, but he made a good point. She hopped up on the bed and went down to the foot of it. Sam’s knees were bent and his feet were still almost hanging off the bed. 

Sam didn’t move as he watched the brunette cat inspect the real estate at the foot of the bed. Finally, she seemed satisfied and laid down against his shins. She was well out of reach, so he took the silent cue not to touch her, and settled back in himself.

\------

The next morning started early given that they’d gone to bed at three in the morning. By 8, Dean was ready to go interview Luke Wallace’s wife again and then stake out the house. Tara went with him. After waking up to her and Sam on the same bed, Dean had claimed that this was the perfect time to learn how to stake a place out. She’d stayed in the car while Dean interviewed the wife, but for the past few hours they’d been lurking outside the house. Tara was sitting with him in the front seat, her space being slowly eaten away by the growing pile of candy wrappers, courtesy of Dean.

“Hey, look at this!” He held up a Hershey’s kiss that had been in the massive bag of assorted sweets, “Hershey, lay down and curl up.” At this, Tara leapt into the back and started moving the planchette around her talking board.

“I’m not a dog.” Dean pouted.

“Please? It’ll be a comparison photo.” He held up the foil-wrapped treat. Tara huffed at him, but indulged his antics, curling up in the backseat like she was going to take a nap.

“Ha ha!” Dean unwrapped the kiss and pulled out his phone. He then held the Hershey’s kiss so it was next to Tara in the frame and snapped the picture.

As soon as he lowered the phone to look at it, Tara was up and jumping back into the front. She pawed at Dean’s arm until he turned the phone around so she could see the picture. 

Garth had been completely right. When she curled up, she really did look like a melted Hershey’s kiss with the way her tail stuck up in the middle. Dean had held the candy so it looked almost the same size as her. The biggest difference was that her eyes were open, starting directly into the camera.

Tara felt her mouth try to tug up into a smile. No one would ever believe that that was her. Not that she’d be showing that picture to anyone from her life, but still.

Dean popped the kiss in his mouth and ruffled the fur on Tara’s head.

“Rule number one of a stake-out. Never take your eyes off the target.” Tara shook her head, but refrained from jumping into the back and writing out a snarky response about how it had been his idea. She leapt over the pile of candy wrappers and reclaimed her spot by the window. Dean’s stomach rolled and cramped, protesting the amount of sugar he was dumping into it. He groaned softly and belched, but before he could grab another piece of candy, his phone rang.

“Hey.” Tara strained her ears to hear Sam, but he was talking too softly.

“Awesome. Yeah, I talked with Mrs. Razor Blade again. We’ve been sitting out in front of her house for hours, and we’ve got a big, steamy pile of nothing.” Sam replied to him, but Tara couldn’t pick out any of the words. She turned her attention back to the house across the street and saw a young girl approach it. She was wearing jeans that were tight around the ass and flared out at the bottom, and a jacket over a white shirt.

“Yeah, well, I hope we find him because I’m starting to cramp like a–”

“Meow!” Dean leaned over to see what the fuss was about.

“Son of a bitch.”

“Quit whining.” She heard Sam say on the other end.

“No, Sam, I mean ‘son of a bitch’.” The girl went up the steps and the front door opened. On the other side was a woman, holding a baby. She greeted the young girl happily and they cooed over the baby together.

“Time to go. Be back in ten.” Dean hung up and started the car, speeding off so fast that Tara almost went flying over the back of the front bench.

“Meow!” She pinned her ears back.

“Sorry, Hershey.”

They were back at the motel in far under ten minutes. Dean went nearly double the posted speed limits and barely put the Impala in park before yanking the keys out of the ignition. He tossed the room key down on the entry table as he strolled into the room with Tara on his heels. Sam was lounging on his bed with his laptop open.

“So, our apple-bobbing cheerleader?”

“Tracy?” Dean sauntered up to the bed, and Tara hopped up onto it, “The Wallace’s babysitter. She told me she’d never even heard of Luke Wallace.” He took off his jacket.

“Huh.” Sam turned back to his computer, “Interesting look for a centuries-old witch.” Tara peeked over his torso and caught a glimpse of the screen. It was an article of some sort, featuring a bad black and white photo of who she assumed to be Tracy.

“Yeah well, if you were a 600-year-old hag and you could pick any costume to come back in, wouldn’t you go for a hot cheerleader?” He had a point there, “I would.” His eyes had become unfocused, no doubt imagining the scenario.

Sam looked up from his laptop, his eyebrows straining to meet on his forehead. It took Dean a moment to notice that not only was Sam staring at him, but the cat was too. He raised his eyebrows, silently daring them to push the subject. Sam didn’t take the bait and turned back to his laptop.

“Well, Tracy’s not as wholesome as she looks. Did some digging. Apparently, she got into a violent altercation with one of her teachers.” He sat up, careful not to push Tara off the bed, and handed the laptop to Dean, “Got suspended from school.” The elder Winchester examined the report for a moment.

“Then let’s pay them a visit.”

Tara was a little bummed to get benched while the Winchesters put on the FBI suits for the third time, but a cat following them around would just be too weird. So instead, after they left, she lounged on Sam’s bed, paging through the book he’d left open.

Sam and Dean hadn’t been gone for five minutes when the lock of the door clicked. It swung open, but instead of it being either of the tall brothers, it was Tracy. Her eyes found Tara almost immediately, and she smiled. But it wasn’t warm or friendly, if anything, it was almost too shark-like.

“Well hi there, kitty kitty.” She came in and closed the door behind her. Tara was on her feet in an instant, fur puffed up as far as it would go, back arched, and teeth bared. She hissed as loudly as she could. 

“Now, now. No need to be nasty. I’m not gonna hurt you.” She held up a little brown bag and shook it. Tara recognized it immediately as a hex bag. She hissed again, praying to God that Sam and Dean would show up soon.

“In fact,” She crossed the room and pulled the TV stand out a few inches, “I’m going to help you.” Tara heard scratching, then something cracked. When Tracy stood back up, her hands had a little bit of powder on them and the hex bag was gone. She pushed the TV stand back into place.

“So. We can do this the easy way,” She came towards the bed, every step slow and deliberate, “Or the fun way.” Tara hissed a third time, swiping in Tracy’s direction, claws fully extended. Tracy pouted.

“Fun way it is then.” She put one hand into the pocket of her jacket. Tara’s heart was thudding in her chest and her muscles froze up. She had no defence against magic!

“Now, call me old-fashioned, but I’ve always believed that every proper witch should have a cat. You’re not a black cat, pity, but you’re far more special, I can see it clear as day.” Tracy’s eyes glinted in the low light and Tara cursed her luck. Of course the witch could see through her current body.

Tracy withdrew her hand from her pocket, cupping it to contain a fine dark powder. At the sight of the powder, whatever paralysis that held Tara captive was broken. She sprang from the bed, making for the door, but Tracy only laughed at her efforts. She chanted something in Latin and blew the powder in Tara’s direction.

Drowsiness hit Tara like a train. An overly sweet scent from the powder overwhelmed her nose, and before she could even reach the door, she’d been dragged down into a deep sleep.


	11. Samhain

Sam shook his head as he unlocked the door to their room, incredulity and irritation at Dean simmering away in his gut. He couldn’t quite believe that Dean had single handedly consumed that much candy without getting sick to his stomach.

The room was almost completely dark when he opened the door, but the light that spilled in behind him illuminated the figure standing with his back to the door.

“Who are you?!” He had his gun out in an instant.

“Sam,” Dean came running in after him, “Sam, wait! It’s Castiel.” He gently pushed Sam’s gun towards the ground, “The angel.” Sam was stunned as he stared at the shooter man in the trench coat with new eyes.

“Him I don’t know.” Dean referred to the figure standing by the patio door. Sam’s gaze flicked briefly to the second figure and right back to Castiel as he turned around. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected the face of an angel–or at least, an angel’s vessel–to look like, but the face looking back at him just seemed...right somehow.

“Hello, Sam.” It took him a second to get a response out.

“Oh my God.” Heat flooded his cheeks when he realized what he’d said, “Er, uh, I didn’t mean to–sorry.” But Castiel seemed unoffended by his blunder, “It’s an honor. Really, I–I’ve heard a lot about you.” He held out his hand, but Castiel didn’t move to shake it. Sam didn’t back down, and eventually, the angel figured out the appropriate response.

“And I, you. Sam Winchester,” He clasped his other hand over Sam’s, “The boy with the demon blood. Glad to hear you’ve ceased your extracurricular activities.” Sam prayed that Castiel didn’t feel his hand get clammy at that.

“Let’s keep it that way.” The second figure still hadn’t turned around. His voice was deeper than Castiel’s but it was smooth.

“Yeah, ok, Chuckles. Who’s your friend and where’s Tara?” Sam looked around, only then realizing that the brunette cat was nowhere to be seen.

“The raising of Samhain–have you stopped it?” Castiel ignored both questions.”

“Why?”

“Dean, have you located the witch?”

“Yes, we’ve located the witch.”

“And is the witch dead?”

“No, but–” Sam began.

“We know who it is.” Dean interrupted.

“Apparently, the witch knows who you are too.” He drew the hunters’ attention to the hex bag on the nightstand, “This was behind the wall of your room. If we hadn’t found it, surely one or both of you would be dead.” Sam and Dean exchanged a look and surveyed the room for blood. There was none, but the duvet of Sam’s bed was ruffled, as if someone had gotten off it in a hurry.

“Do you know where the witch is now?” Castiel seemed unaware of their worry for Tara.

“We’re working on it.” Dean finally said, “But–”

“That’s unfortunate.”

“What do you care?”

“The raising of Samhain is one of the 66 seals.”

“So this is about your buddy Lucifer? I’ll tell you about our buddy, Tara–”

“Lucifer is no friend of ours.” The second figure said. He still hadn’t turned from the patio door.

“It’s just an expression, and now it’s your turn to answer our questions. Where’s Tara?” Castiel cocked his head.

“Who?”

“Tara. She’s a human, but a witch turned her into a cat.” Sam explained, “She was here when we left.” Castiel glanced at his companion a second.

“There was no one else here when we arrived, human, feline, or otherwise.”

“Shit.” Dean muttered.

“You think Tracy took her?” Sam asked.

“That’s exactly what I think. When I get my hands on that bitch, she is gonna _ hurt _ .”

“The witch must die.” Castiel corrected, “Lucifer cannot rise. The breaking of the seal must be prevented at all costs.”

“Ok, great two birds with one stone. Now that you’re here, why don’t you tell us where the witch is? We’ll gank her, get Tara back, everybody goes home.”

“We are not omniscient. This witch is very powerful; she’s cloaked even to our methods.”

“Ok, well, we already know who she is. So if we work together–”

“Enough of this.” The second figure turned around.

“Who are you and why should I care?” Dean finally snapped.

“This is Uriel. He’s what you might call...a specialist.”

“What kind of a specialist?” Uriel didn’t answer, he just looked expectantly at Castiel.

“What are you gonna do?” Dean asked, fear starting to prickle under his skin.

“You–both of you need to leave this town immediately.”

“Not without Tara.” Came Sam’s instant response.

“Why?”

“Because we’re about to destroy it.” Casitel said it like he was talking about his afternoon plans. Which, in a way, he was. Sam felt his heart sink. This is what angels were really like? These were the figures he’d always kept faith in no matter how bad things got?

“So this is your plan? You’re gonna smite the whole friggin’ town?”

“We’re out of time. This witch has to die, the seal must be saved.”

“There are a thousand people here.” Sam pointed out.

“One thousand two hundred and fourteen.” Uriel supplied.

“And you’re willing to kill them all?”

“This isn’t the first time I’ve….purified a city.” Sam felt like he was going to be sick.

“Look.” Castiel tried to keep things from escalating, “I understand this is regrettable–”

“Regrettable? Tara is out there somewhere too. She’s here because of us! We’re not just gonna leave her to die.”

“We have to hold the line. I am sorry about your friend, but too many seals have broken already.”

“So you screwed the pooch on some seals and now this town–and Tara–have to pay the price?”

“It’s the lives of one thousand against the lives of six billion; there’s a bigger picture here.”

“Right, cause you’re, uh, bigger-picture kinda guys.”

“Lucifer cannot rise.” Castiel stated again, “If he does, then hell rises with him. Is that something you’re willing to risk?”

“We’ll stop this witch before she summons anyone. Your seal won’t be broken and no one has to die. And we promised Tara we’d help her.”

“Winchesters don’t go back on their word like that.” Dean added.

“We’re wasting time with these mud monkeys.” Uriel growled.

“I’m sorry, we have our orders.”

“No, you can’t do this!” Sam couldn’t take it anymore, “You–you’re angels. I mean aren’t you supposed to–you’re supposed to show mercy!”

“Says who?” Uriel wasn’t even trying to conceal his amusement.

“We have no choice.” Castiel couldn’t bring himself to look at either brother.

“Of course you have a choice. I mean, come on, what, you’re never questioned a crap order, huh? What, are you both just a couple of hammers?”

“Look, even if you can’t understand it, have faith. The plan is just.”

“How can you even say that?”

“Because it comes from Heaven. That makes it just.”

“It must be nice.” Dean sneered, “To be so sure of yourselves.”

“Tell me something, Dean. When your father gave you an order, didn’t you obey?” Dean ground his teeth. This was totally different! His dad had never told him to kill a thousand innocent people!

“Well, sorry boys, it looks like the plans have changed.”

“You think you can stop us?”

“No. But if you’re gonna smite this whole town, you gonna have to smite us with it because we are not leaving. You went through the trouble of busting me outta hell, I figure I’m worth something to the man upstairs. You wanna waste me? Go ahead. See how he digs that.”

“I will drag you out of here myself.” Uriel bristled at Dean’s challenge.

“Yeah, but you’ll have to kill me. Then we’re back to the same problem. I mean, come on. You’re gonna wipe out a whole town for one little witch? Seems to me like you’re compensating for something.” When Uriel didn’t respond, Dean turned back to Sam and Castiel.

“We can do this. We will find that witch, we will stop the summoning, and we’ll get Tara back.”

“Castiel!” Uriel finally lost it, “I will not let these–”

“Enough.” Castiel barked at him without taking his eyes off Dean, “I suggest you move quickly.” There were a pair of  _ whooshes _ and suddenly, Sam and Dean were alone in the room.

Sam let out a long sigh.

“You really think Tracy took Tara?”

“That’s exactly what I think.” Dean replied, “If those dickless dicks had her, they would’ve been dangling her in our faces. The real question is, when she realizes her hex bag failed, will she make Tara the third sacrifice?”

\------

Tara’s head was pounding. The sweet stench of the powder still lingered in her nose and mouth. Her vision was a little blurry, but was getting clearer with every passing second. The room she was in was dim, the only light coming from a window that was high up on the wall. Fantastic, she was stuck in a basement again.

That’s when she noticed the collar and leash around her neck, tethering her to the leg of a table. Great. 

Based on the light coming in through the window, it was dusk. Had Sam and Dean figured out what happened yet? Or were they both dead on the motel room floor?

She didn’t have time to ponder their fates any longer, as the wooden steps leading upstairs creaked. Two pairs of footsteps descended, one pair significantly heavier than the other. Tara recognized the first person to appear right away. It was Tracy, who had all but dropped the guise of perky high school cheerleader. The other person was a man. Reasonably tall and broad, but not with muscles like Sam or Dean. His dark hair fell limply to his chin and his face reminded Tara of a weasel. 

“And look what I found in their room!” Tracy pointed at Tara, “A brand new pet!” The man rolled his eyes at Tracy.

“Charming. But it seems we need her for other purposes.” He gestured to the top of the table Tara was tethered to, “Your hex bag has been disarmed. The hunters live.” Tara’s heart soared at that, “Midnight is fast-approaching and we need the third sacrifice.” Tracy pouted.

“Why can’t we go grab some brat off the street?”

“You know why. It does us no good to attract attention now. Those imbecile hunters haven’t realized you’re not the only witch yet and with any luck, they will never know. Now change her back.” Tara’s breath caught in her throat. They could do that? Make her human again?

“Once Samhain has been raised and restored to his former glory, he will grant you whatever pitiful toys you desire.” Tracy glowered at the man, but from the way she started to stomp around the basement, gathering various items, she was going to obey him.

Tara’s mind was racing. They were going to change her back, by the sound of it, but then promptly kill her to finish raising Samhain! She needed to come up with a plan to get out of here and fast.

Meanwhile, the man opened a rotting wardrobe and pulled out a moth-bitten white gown. Remnants of lace clung to the ends of the sleeves and the collar, and there was a hole in the abdomen; the area around which was stained a brownish-red. Blood, no doubt. The man tossed it at Tara’s feet.

“A fitting final outfit, wouldn’t you say, sister?” Tracy looked up from the bowl where she was grinding...something into a paste. When she saw the dress, she scoffed.

“A little on the nose if you ask me.” She put the bowl down and used the paste she’d created to bind several dry ingredients together. Patiently, she moulded the lump into a perfect sphere, held it up to her mouth and whispered something.

Tara’s fur stood on end as she felt an electric charge go through the room. There was a crackle of light, and suddenly the ball had hardened completely. Tracy went and knelt in front of Tara. She raised her arm and chanted an incantation. It wasn’t in Latin, Tara didn’t recognize any of the words. Then Tracy smashed the newly-made sphere on the hard floor of the basement. It burst in a brilliant flash of white light and Tara felt her body contort.

The collar around her neck stretched to accommodate her growing size, and it was agony feeling her organs shift and bones grow and rearrange themselves. Faintly, she registered a very human scream, but she couldn’t tell if it came from her or not.

When the light finally cleared, the man was standing over Tracy’s limp body. He’d used the distraction of the reversal spell to knock her out cold.

“Forgive me, sister.” His tone was not at all remorseful, “But I’ve decided that you’ll be the final sacrifice.” With very little effort, he lifted her hands above her head and tied them together. Tara reached up, trying to find a way to undo the collar around her neck, but that’s when she realized that she didn’t have a stitch of clothing on.

Suddenly the ratty, bloodstained dress looked much more appealing.

While the man was distracted, hanging Tracy from a hook attached to the ceiling, Tara grabbed the dressed and yanked it over her head. The rope attached to the collar made it difficult to pull the dress down far enough to cover herself, but as soon as her modesty was at least partially restored, Tara grabbed at the collar again. Her fingers felt long, clumsy after being cat’s paws for so long, and while she couldn’t get the buckle undone, she managed to untie the rope from around the table leg.

Freedom! 

Tara staggered to her feet, only to collide with the man. Already unbalanced, she fell backwards onto the ground. The man tsked at her and wagged a finger.

“Now, now. We wouldn’t want Samhain to arrive without a gift, would we?” He pulled the rope free from the dress, and Tara winced as it chaffed against her bare skin. She tried to struggle, to wriggle free, but all that got her was a slap across the face

“Cooperate. I can do much, much worse than just turn you into a cat.” He tied her hands together behind her back in such a way that pulling on her bonds would only result in her choking. He also looped the rope back around the table leg, and finished the ensemble by gagging her, putting Tara right back where she started. All she could do was sit and pray that Sam and Dean found her soon.

\------

It was long after dark by the time the man actually started the process of killing Tracy. The table Tara was tied to was an altar of some sort, and he’d spent an obscene amount of time, in Tara’s opinion, making sure every last detail was perfect before he started the spell.

He began chanting in Latin, raising a silver goblet and a knife over the altar before going over to Tracy. She’d woken up in the time he’d taken to prepare, but all her struggles to get free were in vain. Nor could she properly form words, as the man had gagged her too. Seeing the desperate look on the girl’s face, Tara was almost tempted to feel sorry for her, but then she remembered how she’d landed in this situation in the first place.

The man finished his incantation, and dragged the tip of the knife down Tracy’s chest. Even though she wasn’t a cat anymore, Tara could hear Tracy panting. 

Suddenly, the man raised the knife high and several gunshots echoed in the basement. Blood bloomed on the man’s white shirt and he looked down, confused, before collapsing. Sam and Dean came around the corner, both of their guns smoking. Tara didn’t even try to fight the smile. They’d figured it out!

They stowed their weapons, which confused Tara a bit, but maybe they had to kill Tracy elsewhere to prevent her from being the third sacrifice. Dean went to untie her while Sam checked for a pulse on the man.

That’s when he noticed the girl bound to the altar.

She was wearing an ancient scrap of clothing. Dress would have been too nice of a descriptor for it. It barely went halfway down her thighs and lace hung from the neckline, making it dip low enough to make Sam look anywhere but there. Her brown hair was short, just barely brushing her shoulders, her brown eyes wide. Sam found himself taken aback when one of the first descriptors that came to mind was ‘beautiful’. She looked nothing like Jess, or Ruby. Her hair framed her face gently in smooth curves. Her cheekbones were prominent enough to create shadows, but not enough to be distracting. Her button nose flared with every breath.

Sam shoved his observations and the feelings that came with down and pulled out his pocket knife.

“I’m not gonna hurt you.” He reached behind her and cut the rope. Tara brought her hands forward and pulled at the knots, ridding her wrists of the rope completely while Sam unbuckled the collar and tossed it aside. 

“Hey, strange question, but you haven’t seen a brown cat around here, have you?” 

Meanwhile, Tracy was already free and ungagged.

“Thank you, he was gonna kill me! Ugh, that sick son of a bitch.” Tara yanked her gag down, not bothering to untie it.

“I mean, did you see what he was doing?” Tracy went on, “Did you hear him?!”

“Sam, Sam it’s her. She’s a witch too!” Sam found himself caught off-guard by the fact that this girl knew his name. By the time he registered her words, it was too late.

“How sloppy his incantation was? My brother always was a little dim.” Both brothers drew their guns and Sam stood to his full height, but it was too late. Tracy waved her hands and sent all three of them flying. 

Tara hit the ground a few feet away from Sam and Dean. It felt like something covered in barbs was crawling around in her stomach.

“He was gonna make me the final sacrifice. His idea. But now, that honor goes to him. Our master has returned. The spellwork’s a two-man job, you understand? So for 600 years, I had to put up with that pompous son of a bitch. Planning, preparing, unbearable. The whole time I wanted to rip his face off.” She knelt beside his body with the knife and silver goblet. 

“And you get him with a gun.” Tracy directed that part at Dean, “Oh, I love that.” She looked to Tara. 

“It’s a shame I had to turn you back. That really was a rather ingenious spell, and I was looking forward to having a pet like you. No matter, I get things sorted with you soon enough.” She stood up, holding the goblet carefully so as not to spill the blood.

“You know, back in the day, this was the one night you kept your children inside. Well tonight, you’ll all see what Halloween really is.” She placed the goblet on the altar and began another Latin incantation. 

Tara tried to find the strength to stand, tried to push down the pain, but she couldn’t get her limbs to function. Sam was having better luck. He managed to roll across the floor to the man’s dead body. Then, he pressed his hand into the puddle of blood and wiped it on his face. 

“What–what are you doing?” 

“Just follow my lead.” He reached over and smeared the blood on Dean’s face too. Tara rolled, inching across the floor towards them.

“Sam.” Using her voice made the pain in her stomach ten times worse, and that’s when he seemed to remember she was there. 

Grunting with the effort, Sam rolled over to face her and wiped his bloody hand on her face. The contact was jarring. After having a fur coat for so long, feeling skin on skin again was overwhelming. And it didn’t help that the blood was slick and warm and gross. Tara couldn’t tell if the warmth came from Sam’s hand or the blood itself.

“Play dead.” He gasped out, before going limp. Tara did that as best she could, but her stomach still felt like it was being torn apart.

Suddenly, the ground beneath her started to tremble and a giant crack appeared in the floor. From it rose a whole lot of black smoke. It hovered by the ceiling for a few moments, before forming a stream and rushing into the man’s dead body. And then the body sat up.

Tara gasped, and clasped a hand over her mouth. She squeezed her eyes shut, knowing that if she didn’t, she’d give herself away.

Seconds ticked by. She heard Samhain moving around, but not leaving. Tara tried to control her breathing.

“My love.” She heard Tracy whisper.

“You’ve aged.” It was the same voice as the man, but the way he spoke made it all too clear that it wasn’t actually him.

“This face...I can’t fool you.”

“Your beauty is beyond time.” Tara was expecting to hear a giggle, something from Tracy, but what she heard instead was a horrible cracking, followed by dead weight hitting the floor.

“Whore.” Tara bit the inside of her cheek, praying that Samhain would leave now. But all was silent again. Her skin prickled. She could feel his eyes on her. Her heart was in her throat and she held her breath.

At long last, there were footsteps. Samhain leaving, going up the creaky stairs. Then she heard either Sam or Dean moving around, and opened her eyes.

“What the hell was that?” Dean whisper-yelled at Sam.

“Halloween lore.” Sam responded calmly, “People used to wear masks to hide from him, so I have it a shot.

“You gave it a  _ shot _ ?” Dean wasn’t pleased that Sam hadn’t been 100% sure about it. Tara was just grateful that it worked, but she was still hung up on one thing.

“So demons can possess dead bodies too? Not just living humans?” Dean jumped at her voice and looked at her.

“Who the hell are you?” Tara shrunk back a little at his aggressive tone.

“Dean, it’s me. It’s Tara.”

“Reeses?”

“No, Hershey.” She corrected. Dean gave a quick smile.

“Good to actually talk to you.”

“Yeah, now I can hold a real conversation without taking forever with that board!”

“That’s why she said all that about changing you back.” Sam put the pieces together. Tara nodded.

“The guy was gonna make me a gift for Samhain.” Just saying it aloud made her shudder.

“Yeah, and speaking of, need to stop him.” Dean groaned softly as he rolled to his feet.

Sam was quick to rise as well, but Tara staggered a bit, her legs wobbling like a newborn foal’s. She leaned on the wall for support, trying to get used to standing on two legs again. The cement was cold against her palm, and a shudder ran through her body. The rag of a dress she was wearing did nothing to keep out the chill. With every breath, the tear in it billowed, blowing cool air against her torso.

“Here.” A warm jacket was draped over her shoulders. Tara pulled it tight around her and turned to thank Sam, but was struck silent when she found herself looking up, and then up again to meet his eyes. She’d known that he and Dean were tall, but...wow.

“Thanks.” She whispered, her voice rough from lack of use.

“Come on!” Dean was halfway up the stairs.

“You good?” Sam asked. Tara nodded sharply.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

There was no hint of light left on the horizon when Tara, Sam, and Dean emerged from the house, but the neighborhood was all but deserted. Trick-or-treaters were on both sides of the street. Some younger children with their parents and others tweens or teens with their friends. What made Tara stumble a bit, though, wasn’t how small everything looked. It was the colors. Orange jack-o-lantern buckets, the dark maroon of fake blood, the red and gold of a kid dressed up as Iron Man. It had been weeks since Tara had seen colors properly that it felt like she was seeing everything in Technicolor.

But she didn’t have the luxury of stopping to enjoy the view. Sam and Dean were already three paces ahead of her, their long legs eating up ground as they wiped the blood off their faces. Tara followed suit, using the lace from the dress and trying her best to not get any on Sam’s coat.

“How are we gonna find this mook?” 

“Where would you go to raise all the dark forces of the night?” Sam answered. Tara groaned inwardly.

“A cemetery.” Dean opened the back door for her.

“Yeah.” Sam got in the passenger side.

Sam glanced at Tara in the rearview mirror. She was sitting towards the window, seemingly zoned out. They’d never discussed what would happen to her when she got changed back, but he had assumed that they would drop her back at UND and she would go on with her life. Everything they’d taught her up to this point was for her protection while she was stuck with them, and the less she knew the better. But he needed to let Dean know what his plan was.

“So this demon is pretty powerful.”

“Yeah.” Dean didn’t take his eyes off the road.

“It might take more than the usual weapons.” He looked at Dean, gauging his reaction.

“Sam, no. You’re not using your psychic whatever.”

“But–”

“Don’t even think about it. Ruby’s knife is enough.”

“Why?”

“Because the angel said so, for one.” Tara perked up at the mention of angels, but Sam was too focused on Dean to notice.

“I thought you said they were a bunch of fanatics.”

“Well, they happen to be right about this.”

“I don’t know, Dean. It doesn’t seem like they’re right about much.” Tara leaned forward. Their attitudes towards angels had completely flip-flopped since the last time they’d talked about them. 

“Look, forget the angels, ok? You said yourself, these powers–it’s like playing with fire.” He dug something out of his jacket. The only light was coming from the occasional streetlamp and the waning crescent moon, so all Tara could see was a glint of metal and a wooden handle. Seeing in the dark was certainly one thing she’d miss about being a cat.

Sam stared at the offered knife for a few moments, but eventually accepted it.

\------

They arrived at the cemetery just in time to see a figure descend into the mausoleum. Sam was out of the car before Dean had turned it off. They went around to the trunk.

That’s when Tara realized something.

She was human again! She could help!

She opened the door, but before she could get both feet on the ground, Dean spotted her.

“You stay here.”

“But–”

“It’s not safe in there and you have no training.” He tossed her the keys and a phone, “You stay here and if graves start spitting up, take off and we’ll call you when it’s over.” Tara opened her mouth to protest, but Sam shook his head just slightly. He and Dean finished arming up and slammed the trunk.

“We’ll be back soon.” Was all that was said before they sprinted towards the mausoleum. Tara crossed her arms, glaring at their backs.

At first, she was going to wait five minutes. Five minutes, and then go in. But about twenty percent of the way into that, a whole bunch of teenagers came running and screaming out of the mausoleum. When she saw them, Tara thought it was over. But then Sam and Dean failed to emerge. 

She counted two more minutes, but there was nothing. After a third, everything was still silent. The surrounding graves were showing no signs of zombies digging themselves out, but there was no sign of the Winchesters either. 

“Fuck it.” Tara got out of the car and unlocked the trunk. The arsenal wasn’t so overwhelming now that she knew what most of it was for. 

“Ghosts and ghouls and zombies.” She muttered. She had never held a firearm in her life, so she ignored the shotguns loaded with rock salt.

“Iron for ghosts.” She grabbed a fire poker, “And silver for zombies.” Silver wouldn’t kill a ghoul as far as she knew, but it would hurt them. There were several silver-looking blades to choose from, but instead of going for one of the longer ones, she grabbed a dagger. Dean hadn’t been wrong in his assessment that she had no training, but that wasn’t going to stop her.

Tara ran into the mausoleum. The grass was cool and dewy beneath her bare feet, Sam’s coat flapped in the breeze behind her and the dress did nothing to support her chest as she ran. Tara transferred the silver dagger into her left hand with the poker used her right to clench Sam’s coat tight around her. That gave her just a little more support as she finished the sprint. 

The steps of the mausoleum were white marble smeared with dirt. The cold in them seeped right through her skin, up her legs, and into her very bones, but she pushed on. There was a chamber at the bottom of the stairs. The iron gates were wide open and the floor was spattered with blood and strewn with bodies run through with silver stakes. Dean was being pinned to the wall by a very pale woman with black, curled hair. But she wasn’t holding him there physically, she seemed to have him pinned with her mind. 

Ghost, then.

Tara didn’t slow as she ran into the chamber. Ignoring the fact that she was jumping over bodies and stepping in a combination of dirt and blood, she swung the poker as hard as she could. It went right through the woman, and she vanished in a puff of smoke. Dean dropped to the floor.

“I thought I told you to wait in the car.” He said. Tara rolled her eyes.

“I decided to ignore you. You’re welcome.” Dean didn’t have a snappy response ready, so he changed the subject.

“Zombie-ghost orgy, huh? That’s it, I’m torching everybody.”

Tara helped him douse all the bodies in gasoline, including the ones that hadn’t actually emerged from their graves. When they were done, Dean handed her the box of matches.

“Why don’t you do the honors?”

“You sure?” He shrugged.

“You did save my bacon back there, I figure this makes us even.” Tara struck a match and threw it onto the nearest body. It promptly went up in flames.

“Not even close. Nice try though.” That’s when she realized something was off, “Where’s Sam?” Dean looked around, but Sam was nowhere to be seen.

“Son of a bitch, come on.” He took off down the hall, clutching his shoulder.

They didn’t have to run far. The mausoleum was basically a big square with chambers branching off them. They found Sam in one of the smaller chambers. Dean rounded the corner and stopped short so fast that Tara almost ran smack into him. But Dean didn’t notice. Was was too busy staring at something down at the end of the hall. 

Tara followed his gaze, and saw Sam. He was standing towards the back of the chamber, hand outstretched towards Samhain like he was doing a Force-push. But Samhain was struggling against him, gaining ground. Ruby’s knife was lying useless on the floor, too far away for any of them to get to in time.

Samhain had almost reached Sam, and Sam’s face contorted with effort as he drew on what little demon blood he had left in his system. Over Samhain’s shoulder, he could see Dean and Tara. Dean, who looked more disappointed than anything else and Tara whose eyes were wide with shock. Knowing someone had psychic abilities was on thing, but seeing it was completely different.

Sam grabbed his forehead with his free hand and blood poured from his nose, his eyes nearly squinted shut. For a moment, it looked like Samhain was going to win the struggle, but then he stopped straining. Black smoke poured from his mouth and collected in a pool on the floor. The man’s body collapsed, for good this time.

When the body dropped, Sam straightened up and his hand fell back to his side. Tara saw his shoulders start to rise and fall at a slower rate. The ground around the pool of black smoke turned black, and the spaces between the tiles glowed a orangy-yellow. The black smoke sunk into the floor, and then it returned to normal.

Sam dropped his other hand, panting, and finally brought himself to look at Dean and Tara. Tara smiled at him, glad that it was over, but Dean just turned and started the journey back to the car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She's human again!  
> Next chapter is about her backstory, promise.


	12. Crossroads

Once back at the motel, Sam and Dean had Tara knick herself with silver and drink salted holy water, just to officially test her. After she passed them, they sat down with her at the entry table, Sam across from her and Dean on his bed.

“In the morning, we’ll pack up and take you back to school.” Sam hadn’t even finished speaking and Tara was shaking her head.

“No. I’m not going back there. You still haven’t caught Riley.” She took a deep breath, “And I want to keep doing this stuff.” Sam and Dean had a silent moment of communication.

“This isn’t the life you want.” Dean said, “You think this case was bad? Or gross? This was a G-rated flick compared to the rest of the shit that’s out there. You like home-cooked meals? A nice bed? A steady income? This gig has none of that. You’re barely out of your teens. You got options. Hell, you get back to school before Monday and you could probably finish this semester with good grades and it would be like none of this ever happened.”

“You talk a good game,” Tara admitted, “But there’s nothing for me back at UND. Just a crap apartment, an empty bank account, and classes I don’t want to be taking. You think that just because I’m enrolled in college that my life is magically perfect? And again: Riley.”

“What are you running from?” Sam asked softly. Tara tried to conceal her shock, but failed epically. It didn’t help that she found herself stunned and lost in his eyes. As a cat, they’d appeared light, so she’d assumed that they were blue. But now that she was looking into them, she couldn’t decide what color they were. Blue was there, but he also had streaks of green and hazel in them. 

“W–I just told you! I don’t wanna get turned into something worse than a cat!”

“That’s not what I’m talking about, Tara. And I think you know that. You were one of Seattle-Washington’s top students until this past summer, when you transferred very suddenly halfway across the country and traded one of the best major programs in the country for a minor. Now, call me crazy, but someone doesn’t just throw away a full ride unless something they’re running from something.” Tara balled her fists under the table, trying in vain get the tears to recede.

“My past is none of your business.”

“Wrong.” Dean said, “You wanting to enter this line of work makes it our business–hell–makes it everyone’s business! Because you can’t bury the past forever. Sooner or later, all those skeletons get dredged up, for leverage if nothing else.”

“And everyone you’ve left behind? Your parents, your friends, a boyfriend–”

“–or girlfriend, we don’t judge–” Dean cut in. He was too busy being pleased with himself in that moment, and Sam was occupied giving him a bitchface, that they both missed the hitch in Tara’s breath.

“–something like a demon wouldn’t hesitate to kill them just to get at you. To be in this line of work is to be in this life, forever. And when you’re a hunter, forever doesn’t last long, and you’ve seen with Olivia, Jed, and we can name countless others just like them.”

“You think I’ll regret choosing this life?” She snapped, “Maybe I will. But it’s not like I don’t have regrets already. This is my life, I get to choose what I want to do.”

“Yeah, well, no matter what you do, you’re gonna want more to your name than Sam’s jacket and a 600-year-old, ripped, bloodstained dress.” Dean pointed out, “So we’re taking you back to school in the morning, and that’s final.” Tara glanced down at the reminder of what she was wearing. Maybe swinging by UND to get her stuff wouldn’t be a bad idea.

Sam lent her a purple shirt with a greyhound on it to sleep in. Since he was taller than Dean, the fabric went a little farther down her legs. Not nearly far enough for her to go out in public in, but enough so she wasn’t flashing them with every step. Dean lost at rock-paper-scissors, and surrendered his bed to her.

Tara tossed and turned, trying to sleep, but she couldn’t. Sam and Dean had managed to punch a hole in the wall she’d put her past behind, and whenever she started to drift, she would smell it. That sweet odor that had once meant nothing, accompanied by the more woodsy scent of mahogany and teakwood. Once she was sure that the brothers were asleep, she let the tears she’d held back earlier fall freely.

\------

Despite it taking forever for her to fall asleep, Tara woke up on her own. Sam and Dean had been moving around soundlessly, packing up what little they had when she sat up, clutching the covers to her chest.

“Morning, sleeping beauty. I’m gettin’ breakfast, you want anything?” Tara’s stomach rumbled, and a smile crept its way onto her face when she realized she could eat food again.

“An omelette. I don’t care what’s on it, I just want something a cat can’t eat. And coffee. Please?” Dean laughed a bit and shook his head.

“You got it, Hershey.” He left, and Sam continued to pack. Unlike Dean, he couldn’t just not acknowledge the situation. They were going to take Tara back to school today to get the essentials, drop her at Bobby’s and say goodbye. Now that she was human, she would be able to help search for Riley. She and Bobby would take care of it, and she would go back to her life. The less they got attached to her, the better. He tugged the zipper of a side pocket a little too hard and it snapped off. Tara flinched at the harsh movement.

“Hey, I’m gonna take a shower.” She said. Sam schooled his expression carefully before he turned to face her.

“Here.” He tossed her the plastic bag of toiletries that had been in the pocket he’d just wrecked, “You’re probably safer using my stuff than Dean’s.” Against his better judgement, he kept talking, “Not sure you can call the thing he uses a toothbrush.” Tara caught the bag, even though he hadn’t intended for her to, and smiled. Sam felt his heart stutter a bit.

“Thanks.” She slid out of bed and padded over to the bathroom. It took all of Sam’s willpower not to ogle her bare legs from behind.

Tara very much enjoyed her shower. The water pressure wasn’t anything special, and the water itself was either scalding or freezing, but it was better than she’d had since before she’d moved into her apartment. And it felt so good to brush her teeth again and feel that minty freshness in her mouth for the first time in two and a half months. When she was done, she put Sam’s shirt back on and reemerged. Dean still wasn’t back with breakfast, and Sam’s shoulders were tense.

“What is it?”

“Nothing.” He tried to hide his irritation, “Just...angels. They’re not what I expected.”

“You met them?” How had she missed this? “When?”

“Yesterday. After you were taken, and,” He gestured to the sofa, “One was here just now.”

“W–what?” Tara stammered. Had she missed her only chance? Sam scoffed lightly at her disappointment.

“Trust me, this is one of those situations where ignorance is bliss.” Before Tara could tell him to let her make up her own mind about what she should and shouldn’t know, Dean got back.

“I hope you’re cool with eating on the road, cause it’s a long way to North Dakota.”

\------

Dean hadn’t been joking when he said it would be a long ride. However, the ride Greyhound bus ride from Portland to Grand Forks had been longer and much sleazier. Plus being able to control when the pit stops were was an added bonus when travelling by Impala. They left before 9am and didn’t pull off I-29 until 9pm, long after the sun had set. Tara had gotten the backseat to herself–for the most part. Before they left, she’d pulled the duffel bag containing their lore out of the trunk so she’d have something to keep her entertained now that she didn’t sleep sixteen hours a day.

Reading hadn’t been easy. For pretty much the whole ride, Dean had blasted music so old she’d never heard it before. That wasn’t to say that she didn’t like it, because more than once she caught herself nodding along to the rhythm, it was just seriously testing her ability to double task.

Once the sun started to dip below the horizon and the highway lights turned on, Tara felt her eyes start to get tired. She really hadn’t slept well last night, and the lack of a steady light source started to turn her stomach before too long. So she stowed the book she was reading, kicked off the too-big shoes Dean had lent her for walking to and from the public restrooms they stopped at, and swung her legs up onto the bench. Before they left the motel room, Dean had chucked a pair of boxers–clean, he promised–in her direction. They weren’t the most comfortable things she’d ever worn, the elastic squeezed her hips relentlessly until it left what she suspected was a permanent imprint in her skin, but it certainly made her more comfortable. Even if Sam’s shirt rode up a few inches, her modesty would still be preserved.

Tara woke up when Dean pulled off the highway. One of them had reached into the back and tapped her gently until she woke up.

“Where are we?” Her hair was tousled, but still presentable, and she felt better rested than when she’d woken up this morning.

“Welcome back to Grand Forks, folks.” Dean mimicked a tour-guide voice, “We’re just cruising down University Avenue here, and our resident college girl is gonna direct us to her apartment.”

“Ha ha.” Tara rolled her eyes, trying to get her bearings in the dark, “I think you have to go left on 42nd and take that up to 6th. I think I’m somewhere on 6th.”

“Wait, do you not know your actual address?” Dean dropped all jokes.

“I was here for, like, a week and I walked everywhere. Gimme a break.” She braced herself on the door and ceiling as the Impala suddenly veered left onto 42nd.

As Tara looked around, she saw that the streets were pretty crowded, full of people dressed in skimpy costumes, some of them stumbling and drunk. At least half the houses they passed had strobe lights going in the windows and music blaring so loud Tara swore she could identify the songs. Her heart sank. She’d been gone for more than half the semester and nothing had changed. She was right back where she started, and that was exactly where she didn’t want to be.

“Left or right here, Tara?” It took her a second to realize they’d stopped at 6th.

“There.” She pointed at a building that was just as active as some of the houses, “That’s my building.” Dean turned right, and then left again almost right away, pulling up out front behind a much newer car in much worse condition.

“Oh crap.” Tara swore.

“What?” Sam was instantly on guard, “Do you see Riley?”

“Huh? No. But I didn’t have my keys on me when he took me. I’m locked out, and I can’t exactly approach the front desk like this.” She gestured at her outfit.

“I guess its a good thing we know how to pick locks.” Dean turned the car off, “Come on, Sam.”

“But–” Sam protested. This was supposed to be a quick thing. Her grabbing what she needed to live and getting out. Him going inside had never been part of the plan. But Dean wouldn’t hear it.

“Hurry up!” Dean opened Tara’s door for her out of habit. Sam tossed his head back in annoyance, but got out anyway. 

Tara couldn’t bring herself to look anyone they passed in the face as she took the stairs to the second floor. Remembering which apartment was hers took some doing, but eventually she stopped in front of apartment 28.

Sam and Dean exchanged a look over her head, and Sam felt pity bubble up in his chest. Pity, turned bitter by suspicion. She was still hiding something, he reminded himself as he knelt to pick the lock.

He’d barely slid the pick into the lock when it clicked. The door opened inward, revealing an apartment that, if they were being honest, wasn’t much nicer than most of the motels they stayed in. Something in the fridge was rattling, the stove clock was totally dark, and a mismatched sofa and tiny coffee table sat on the linoleum floor in front of a disconnected TV. There was no rug, no pictures on the walls, no homey feel in the air. If anything, it felt sterile. The apartment didn’t even  _ smell _ lived-in. She really hadn’t been exaggerating when she said they’d be condemning her to a miserable existence if they left her here.

“Well, I suppose this is goodbye.” Tara said, the loneliness already sinking in.

“Actually, not quite.” Dean said.

“What?” 

“You made a good point. Riley could be keeping an eye out for you. So until he’s been taken care of, you’ll be staying with Bobby and he’ll be helping you track him down.”

“Really?” Tara looked up at Sam, hardly believing her ears. Bobby’s place wasn’t quite where she wanted to be, but it was infinitely better than here.

“Really. Now go pack a bag, Hershey.” 

Tara hardly even glanced around the kitchen, she just grabbed a lanyard with an ID case and a couple keys attached to it off the counter and went straight to the bedroom. She closed the door behind her to give herself some privacy to change. She pulled her suitcases–one large and the other smaller–out from under her bed and started opening the dresser drawers.

As soon as the door closed, Dean started poking around the kitchen. Opening cupboards, drawers, even seeing if there was anything in the fridge. There wasn’t. Just some microwave meals sitting in a neat stack on the counter next to some plastic silverware.

“I hate to say it,” He muttered to Sam, “But hunting might actually be a step up for her.”

“Dean. A, that’s never true for anyone, and B, she didn’t have a chance to build something here. Once that witch is taken care of, she’ll be safe and this will be the best place for her to be.” Dean rolled his eyes.

“That was so convincing you almost believed it.” He fiddled with the buttons on the stove, but nothing got it working.

Just a few minutes later, Tara emerged from her bedroom pulling two suitcases behind her with a backpack on her back. She had the clothes Sam and Dean had loaned her over one shoulder and was nudging Dean’s boots along with her feet. Now she was wearing a pair of black jeans and a plain maroon shirt with a lacy pocket at the breast that was clearly for decoration only. Around her neck was a large marble. It was predominately cream, but it had bright orange tendrils running through it. A hole had been drilled through it and it had been strung onto a black chord not unlike the one Dean had around his own neck. 

“And here I was half-expecting you two to be long gone.” She shifted the backpack, and that’s when Sam noticed the teddy bear she had tucked under her arm.

“Nah.” Dean plucked his boots up off the floor and grabbed the shirt and boxers, “You’re not getting rid of us that easily. At least, until we get to Bobby’s.” Tara huffed.

“Thanks.”

“Is that everything?” Sam asked. 

“Yep. Everything I own. Well,” She made a detour to the tiny table in the living space and grabbed the book that was sitting on it.  _ Hard Times _ .

“Now I’ve got everything. We going?” Sam had been ready to leave from the moment he’d walked in the door, but Dean shook his head and crossed his arms.

“Take a seat.” Tara crossed her arms in response, but remained standing.

“Fine.” Dean said, “Be that way. You did a very good job dodging Sam’s question last night, but if you want us to trust you enough to leave you alone at Bobby’s, we need a straight answer. Now. What are you trying to run from?” Tara bowed her head. There would be no escaping it this time.

“Back in March, I was happy. But then,” She reached up and squeezed the marble around her neck, “Something....happened. I got through the rest of the year, barely, and I knew I couldn’t stay there any longer. This was the only university I could find that would take me on such short notice. When my parents found out that I wanted to transfer, they told me if I went through with it, that they wouldn’t pay for a penny of my education. I said fine, and I left.” As she spoke, tears gathered in her eyes.

“What happened?” Sam stepped forward, trying to comfort her, but Tara just felt cornered.

“I told you that’s none of your business.”

“You didn’t murder anyone, did you? Or do something else to put the cops on your trail?” Her head shot up.

“No!” She exclaimed, “No. Nothing like that, I swear.”

“Then what?” Dean pressed again. Tara sniffled, a single tear escaping.

“One of my friends, he...passed away. Very suddenly. None of us saw it coming. And afterwards, I just couldn’t–” Her eyes darted down to the floor as the ball in her throat became too much to talk around.

“Ok.” Dean backed down, “I’m sorry. But we needed to know.”

“Let’s just go.” Tara grabbed her suitcases again and made for the door.

\------

The drive to Bobby’s was much like the drive up to North Dakota, with a side of tension. Tara was in the back again with her things, trying to get a handle on her emotions. She held her bear, Frodo, tight to her chest with one hand and rolled the marble with the other. She was so grateful she hadn’t been wearing it the day Riley took her. She’d overslept that morning, and forgotten to put it on while she was getting dressed.

What Dean said had rattled her. He’d just automatically asked if she’d killed anyone. And while everyone had told her that she hadn’t, Tara couldn’t help but believe that that wasn’t true. At least to a degree.

Not long after they got underway, Sam called Bobby and told him to expect them sometime after midnight. Other than that, no one made any attempt at conversation and Dean used music to fill the silence.

True to Sam’s estimate, they pulled into Bobby’s place just after 1am. The lights downstairs were on, and Bobby was waiting on the porch by the time Dean pulled up.

“Hey, boys.” Tara took a deep breath, her nerves making a sudden appearance. The last time Bobby had seen her, she’d been a cat. They hadn’t told Bobby what happened in Michigan. Dean thought it would be fun to surprise him with good news. But now they were surprising him ith good news  _ and _ a house guest that he might not want.

“Hey, Bobby. We, uh, we have some news.”

“What?” Bobby rolled his eyes. Dean shuffled from one foot to the other, and Sam looked away, playing along.

“We came across a hunt on the way back. It looked like a milk run and...it wasn’t. It was one of the seals. A witch broke into our motel room while we were out and she...she took Tara.”

“She what!?” Bobby shouted, looking back and forth between the boys, “You got her back right?” Neither of them answered for a moment. Sam bit his lip, trying to contain a laugh, but Bobby misread it, “Right!?”

“Well, sort of.” Dean opened the door and Tara poked her head out.

“Hi, Bobby.” The older hunter’s face shifted from confusion, to relief, to anger in the span of less than a second. He then shoved a laughing Dean as hard as he could.

“You idjits are gonna give me heart failure!” Sam and Tara were laughing now too. At the sound of her laughter, Bobby turned back to Tara.

“It’s nice to finally meet you. Officially, anyway.”

“You too.” She got out of the car, yawning.

“Here, I can go make up a bed–”

“Oh, it’s alright, I can sleep on the sofa.” Tara waved him off, “Thanks though.”

“I want a full report in the morning on what happened.” He shoved Dean again for good measure, but Sam managed to get his laughter under control and avoid the same fate, “And if either of you dicks pull a stunt like that again, I’ll kill ya.”

When Tara walked in through the front door, she stopped short, causing Bobby to bump into her.

“You ok?”

“Yeah, it’s just,” She was looking at the walls, “I saw those as a blueish gray.” 

“I guess animals really do see things differently.” Bobby mused. He brought her larger suitcase into the study.

“So, uh, you know where the bathroom is, and the food. Do you need anything else?” Tara shook her head.

“No, I think I’m good. Thanks, Bobby.”

“We’re good too, Bobby, thanks.” Dean was smirking. Bobby ignored his attitude and went upstairs.

“I guess we’ll be turning in too.” Dean stretched and turned towards the stairs.

“Don’t you guys normally sleep in here?”

“We don’t want to intrude.” Sam said, “Bobby’s got a couple guest rooms upstairs.”

“I don’t mind. Really, I don’t. I mean, we’ve been sharing motel rooms for the past week.” Dean shrugged.

“Alright, then.” He pushed her bags out of the way and made himself comfy on the floor. After a few moments of hesitation, Sam did the same.

By the time Tara finished getting ready for bed in the bathroom, they were both asleep, using their jackets as pillows. The lights were off now, but she managed to get to the sofa without waking them up. Unlike last night, once she sank into the red pillows, Tara had no trouble drifting off to sleep.

\------

The next morning, Sam was already up and in the kitchen when Tara woke up. It was dark outside, the clouds hinting at a brewing storm. Dean was still out cold on the floor and there was no sign of Bobby yet. 

Tara stretched, trying to convince herself that she should get up. Her movement made Sam’s gaze flick over to her, but then he looked away without saying anything. He just went back to his cereal.

“Morning.” Tara said. Sam’s only response was a grunt. Tara rubbed her eyes, trying to get her brain working without caffeine.

“You ok?”

“I’m fine.” He stood up abruptly, put his bowl in the sink, and went out the back. The door slammed shut behind him, waking Dean.

“What the–” When he couldn’t find an immediate threat, he lowered his gun, “Morning.”

“Hey.” She replied absentmindedly, her eyes still on the doorway Sam had just stormed through. Dean opened his mouth to ask where Sam was, but then Bobby came tromping down the stairs, already dressed for the day.

“Ok. Gimme the details on what happened in Michigan.”

Sam didn’t stop walking until he was as far from the house as he could get without leaving the Salvage Yard. Rage and guilt boiled just beneath his skin. Rage directed at Azazel, at every monster who had ever taken someone he loved from him, at himself for not taking his first visions seriously and leaving Jess to die.

The rage he could handle. Hell, he was handling it 24/7. It was the guilt that had tipped him over the edge. The guilt that had surged to the surface right after Tara stretched. He hadn’t been able to catch himself in time, and when she’d sat up, arched her back, his eyes had been drawn straight to her chest. And the little satisfied noise that had escaped her lips as she did had taken his mind down a road that he was ashamed of. Especially on a day like today.

Sam swivelled and punch the nearest car. A rusty black sedan. The jolt of the impact went all the way up to his shoulder, but as least now his mind was on the pain, and not Tara. God, it would have been so much easier if they could have just left her at school. But she wouldn’t have been safe. And her safety, the job, had to come before Sam’s personal feelings.

Bobby asked a few clarifying questions once Dean and Tara finished laying out what had happened in Michigan and afterwards. When they finished, he sat back in his chair, mulling over everything.

“You boys made the right decision bringing her back here.” He finally said, “Since you went off the them, Tara, I’ve heard back from a couple other hunters. They found the house that Riley was renting, only the owner said his name was Pascal. He paid in cash, never gave a last name, and broke the lease during the second week of classes.”

“So what now?” Tara asked, “He could be halfway around the world by now.”

“Or he could be lying in wait for you to come back.” Bobby finished, “Either way, it would be damn foolish to send you back there. At least, not without a hunter escort and some training.”

“I don’t think I want to go back at all.” She confessed. Dean sighed.

“Tara–”

“No! Hear me out.”

“We’ve talked about this.”

“Dean, either shut up or take a walk.” Bobby snapped, “Go ahead, Tara.” She took a deep breath.

“I’ve learned more about the world in the past ten weeks than my first two years at college. For the first time, I could see a future for myself in doing something I think I’d enjoy doing. I had no idea what I was going to do after graduation even before...I transferred. Just being here, seeing what you guys do, I want to learn more and I want to do it. I get that it’s not easy, or fun, or glamorous. But I want to do more with my life than just work in an office, assuming that I ever get back to school and actually graduate. Until then, I wanna to more than just sit here like a damsel in distress twiddling my thumbs and hoping you, or someone else kills Riley before he hurts someone else. And if you guys won’t help me get started, then I’ll just start doing it on my own!” Tara was breathing hard by the time she finished her speech. 

“Ok.” Bobby raised his hands in surrender, “If you really feel that strongly about it.”

“I do.”

“Dean?” Dean rolled his eyes, but eventually nodded.

“Fine. Have you ever shot a gun before?” Tara shook her head.

“No.”

“Then get dressed a meet me out back.”

\------

An hour later, Tara was sitting down in the kitchen some freshly made pancakes and a smile on her face. She had a pretty wicked cut on her hand from where the slide of the gun had pinched her but otherwise, her lesson with Dean had gone well. He’d shown her how to hold the gun, how to load and reload, and critiqued her stance before he let her fire the first bullet. 

He had her fire at some sandbags that he’d hung several yards off. They had targets on them, but today’s goal had just been to make contact with the bags. It had taken a few shots to get used to the feel, but she’d done it. 

“Ok.” He said after she’d emptied the clip and loaded a new one, “Now I’m gonna show you how to disarm someone with a gun.

_ That _ had ended with her landing on her ass in the grass too many times to count, as a gun defense lesson had turned into basic self defense. Tara knew she’d be sore tomorrow, but that was all part of the gig. And it wasn’t like she hadn’t gotten any licks of her own in.

On their last bout, Dean had knocked her down, like normal, but this time she’d rolled backwards, grabbed a two by four, and used it to sweep his feet out from under him. 

“Ok.” Dean wheezed as he sat up, “You win that one. Where’d you learn to swing like that?” Tara grinned.

“I used to play softball. And I had friends who liked to roughhouse with toy lightsabers.” She shook her right hand, trying to get her cut to stop stinging. 

“Also, I’ve been meaning to ask.” Dean rolled to his feet, “Do you have a family member named Indiana?” Tara threw a handfull of grass at him.

“If I had a nickel for every time someone’s asked me if I’m related to Indiana Jones, I could’ve funded the fourth movie myself! And it would’ve been ten times better.” Dean burst out laughing. 

“I mean come on. Aliens? Seriously?” Tara went on.

“Hey, I’m with you on that one.” Thunder boomed overhead, and the promised storm finally arrived.

“Why don’t you go wash cut that off. I’ll clean up out here.” Dean offered, “We can shoot and talk movies more later.” 

Tara was happy that there was going to be a ‘later’.

“Did you make hotcakes?” Bobby’s voice made Tara jump back to the present. He was sitting at his desk, and had seemingly just noticed that she was eating something other than a bowl of cereal.

“Um, yeah, sorry. I just saw the stuff there and–”

“No no, it’s fine.” Bobby waved his hand, “Just don’t remember the last time I had a proper hotcake.”

“Well there’s some extra batter if you want some.” Tara pointed at the bowl sitting on the counter. Bobby was quick to help himself.

While the hotcake was still in the pan, Tara heard raised voices coming from outside.

“What do you mean you’re training Tara to be a hunter?!” Sam shouted.

“Exactly that! And you know what? She ain’t half bad!” Tara bit her lip, glad for the compliment, but put off by Sam for the second time this morning.

“Bobby? Does Sam dislike me or something?”

“No. What makes you say that?”

“Well, that.” Tara nodded to the back door, “Plus he was even more adamant than Dean about me not getting into hunting when I brought it up. And this morning he wouldn’t say one word to me.”

“It’s not you, Tara. Let’s just say that...we all got into hunting somehow, and it was a lot bloodier than being turned into a cat. Today’s a bad anniversary for both of then, but Sam especially.”

“Oh.” Tara peered out the kitchen window and saw Dean stomping around the back, shoving the fallen sand into fresh bags and Sam coming towards the house. Tara quickly sat back down at the table and started eating. Moments later, the back door opened.

Sam was breathing hard, hair and untucked flannel shirt dripping on the rug, trying to bury the anger that kept threatening to explode.

“Hey, Sam.” Came a soft, feminine voice, “I made pancakes if you want some.” All the rage drained out of him as he looked at the young woman sitting at the kitchen table. She had some gauze wrapped around her right hand for an amateur gun wound, but it wasn’t stopping the blood from coming through. The smell of fresh pancakes wafted over to him and he met her large, innocent brown eyes. She didn’t deserve to have him take his anger out on her.

“Maybe, later Tara. Thanks though.” The barely-veiled disappointment on her face made him want to change his answer, but he couldn’t. He wasn’t going to take his anger out on her, but he wasn’t sure he could be around her right now either. Not without the guilt coming back.


	13. Hunting Trio

Sam and Dean stayed at Bobby’s for a couple days. When they didn’t find a case on the first day, they caved and made up the beds in the spare rooms. Tara was more than content to stay on the sofa, citing it as the most comfortable sofa she’d ever slept on.

Every day, Dean had taken her out back to practice with a gun and hand to hand combat. She was sore, but she making progress, and Dean had the bruises to prove it. Despite the fact that he was nearly nine years older than her, once he accepted that she was going to be in the life, at least until Riley was eliminated, they hit it off. Well, really it was when he tried the hotcakes she made–not that he would ever admit that.

Bobby hadn’t been idle either; whenever he needed something researched, he enlisted her help and had started teaching her some of the easier languages. Building on her knowledge of Latin and extrapolating that into French, Spanish, and Italian. Tara was finding that learning a language from another person, if they were a competent instructor, was more enjoyable than learning it from a website.

Bobby had also taken her to Kinko’s yesterday and showed her how to make fake federal IDs. Not that she would be using them anytime soon, but they were good to have. She was Agent Ripley of the FBI, Agent Fisher of the Fish and Wildlife Service, Deputy Marshall Bratt, Detective Tyler, and Special Agent Perry. She’d been going for Katy Perry, but as soon as she showed her new badge to Dean, he burst out laughing and called her a platypus.

Sam, on the other hand, was still a little cold towards her. He never outright ignored her again, and when Tara spoke to him, he was polite, but he never initiated conversation. 

Right now, Tara was lying on her stomach in the study, a book open in front of her and an ice pack sitting on her tailbone. The book was in Spanish, and while reading was slowgoing, she was confident that her translation was accurate. 

“Hey, Tara?” He speaks! She looked up at Sam, who had just come in the front door.

“I’m right here, what’s up?”

“What happened to you?” He nodded at the ice pack.

“I thought jumping on Dean’s back would be a good way to tackle him. He flipped me right over his head.”

“Ouch.” Then Tara notice the bag in his hand.

“Whatcha got there?”

“Oh, uh,” He sat down on the floor, his long legs folding under him, “I know you have a phone.” He said, referring to the bright pink thing she had in her backpack, “But hunters always carry more than one phone, and I picked you up a couple.” He pulled a pair of flip phones, one gray and one black, out of the bag.

“I, uh, I already programmed all our numbers into them for you.”

“Thanks!” Tara gave him a bright smile, accepted the phones and flipped the black one open. She quickly figured out the nuts and bolts of it, since it wasn’t all that different from the one she already had.

“You’re welcome.” Sam started to get up, but Tara stopped him.

“Hold on, can you tell me if I’m reading this right?” She pointed at a passage in the book. 

“Sure.” He sat back down and leaned over, skimming it, “What do you think it says?”

“It sounds like its describing a particular type of ghost–a Crying Woman? What circumstances lead someone to become one.”

“Ok.” She took that as her cue to continue.

“It sounds like the husband has to be cheating, and she has to muder her kids and then commit suicide. Is that right?”

“Yeah. The more common name is English is a Woman in White, and then they can only go after men who are unfaithful–even if they aren’t married. But that was a really good translation.” Tara felt her cheeks growing warm and butterflies awakened in her stomach.

“Thanks.” This time she was more timid, her eyes flicking back down to the page. Sam felt himself blush a bit and quickly retreated to the kitchen.

Tara was a little sad to see him leave, but his words left her feeling like she was glowing inside. Not because she liked him. No, that wasn’t the case. It was just because she finally had a third party’s opinion on her progress with learning to read Spanish. Yes. That was it.

That evening, Tara and Bobby had dinner at Bobby’s place while Sam and Dean went to a restaurant in town. Not to spurn Bobby’s hospitality, but because Dean was cruising for a hookup and Sam finally saw his chance to get Dean alone and ask about what Uriel said to him. And while Dean was distracted by girls, he would look for cases.

Meanwhile, Bobby showed Tara how to make the chili she’d never gotten to eat as a cat. It was surprisingly easy, it just took awhile to cook. By the time she and Bobby were actually sitting down to eat, it was dark outside.

Tara had only just raised her fork to her mouth when the front door opened.

“We found a case!” Dean called. Tara shot up out of her chair.

“Where?”

“Now hold on.” Dean put up his hand, “What makes you think you’re coming?”

“Well, I just thought that since–” She noticed that Dean was fighting a grin, “Hold on, screw you!” Dean laughed.

“Yeah, yeah. Five minutes, pack a bag. We’ll be in the car.”

“Where are we heading?”

“Concrete, Washington.” Sam answered, “Possible vengeful spirit. Should be a pretty simple case.”

“In other words: it’ll be easy so I can tag along?” 

“Huh? No! Well, yes, but it’s not like that. It just looks like a good first case.”

“Uh-huh.” Sam had recovered pretty well, but Tara had her doubts. Still, she wasn’t going to let that stop her.

\------

A day and a half later, they were cruising down Main Street in Concrete, Washington. Tara had thrown the essentials and a couple outfits into her backpack, Bobby had put her dinner in a Tupperware container, and they’d taken off. They’d stayed at a motel in the middle of nowhere, Wyoming for a few hours. Tara wasn’t willing to say ‘for the night’ because they’d stopped around one and started again before sunrise. She was still exhausted, but Dean had been good to drive so they went on.

Now that she was human again, they were going to have to rethink how they did motels. Rooms didn’t exactly come with three beds and she didn’t know either of them well enough to feel comfortable sharing a queen–even though they were all adults. The temporary fix had been for Sam to sleep on the sofa. He hadn’t heard any of her protests, that she would be more comfortable on it, that she wasn’t a child and she could make it work, nothing. When they got up, he’d tried to play off his sore back and neck like it was nothing, but she’d seen right through it.

Dean pulled over, dropping Sam in front of the little Chinese place where he’d arranged to meet with Candice Armstrong, the woman the ghost had attacked. While they were there, Dean and Tara were going to check out the women’s showers at the health center and Mrs. Armstrong’s house.

The house was the first stop, since Mrs. Armstrong wouldn’t be gone forever. Tara was almost successful in picking the lock on the front door, and once inside, Dean didn’t get a single EMF reading anywhere. Overall, a total bust. 

The health center was the next stop. Tara put on a pair of yoga pants and a t-shirt and walked in the front door. She had a little purse that she always stored in her backpack over her shoulder that contained the EMF meter. Dean double-checked that she knew how to work it before sending her in.

“Just report how strong the reading is and if you feel it get cold. No EMF at the house means that the spirit is attached to this place and not Mrs. Armstrong. Can you do that?”

“Yep!” She’d tucked the device away and walked right in. But now that she was on her own, her nerves were starting to make themselves known. She wasn’t a member here. What is someone came up and asked for her ID? What if they caught her using the EMF meter?

“Grr. Come on, Tara.” She muttered, “Sam and Dean do this for a living. You can do it at least once.” She made her way up to the women’s showers and went inside. 

The air was warm and humid, courtesy of whoever was showering in the farthest stall, the one that closed with a curtain instead of a glass door. Hopefully the sound of the water would drown out the EMF. Tara stood in the middle of the room, pulled the meter out of her purse, and flipped it on.

Nothing happened.

“What the?” She checked the wires and the antenne, then flipped it off and on again. But still nothing. Tara pulled out one of her new phones–the black one–and texted Dean.

 _“Zero readings. Are you sure this thing works?”_ His response was almost immediate.

 _“Yeah I’m sure. Meet me by the stairs.”_ The water in the stall shut off. Tara fumbled with both devices, nearly dropping the EMF in her haste to get her phone out of sight. She bolted for the door, making it out just as she heard the shower curtain move.

Her heart was in her throat, but Dean was already halfway up the stairs.

“Gimme the meter.” He clapped his hands and she tossed it. It went right to him, and Dean proceeded to perform the same checks that Tara had done.

“Huh.” He said when he got no readings off the stairwell either, “Maybe it’s not a ghost. Let’s see what Sam says about his date.” Tara felt a little pang in her heart at the mention of Sam on a date, but she pushed it down.

Dean and Tara waited at the health center, sitting on the blue wood steps. Dean was reading the newspaper, but Tara was enjoying the breeze from the lake. Before long, Sam came walking down the dock.

“Well? Pick up anything?” Dean folded the newspaper back up.

“No EMF in the shower or anywhere else. The house was clean too.”

“Yeah, I’m not surprised.” They started towards the car, “I kinda got the feeling back there that _crazy_ pushed Mrs. Armstrong down the stairs.”

“I gotta tell you, I’m pretty disappointed.” Sam scoffed.

“You wanted to save naked women.”

“Damn right I wanted to save some naked women!” Tara laughed a bit and Dean turned to her.

“Well, Hershey, this is another lesson for you. When you’ve done your digging and turned up bupkis, take it for what it is and move on.”

“I hear ya.” A gaggle of kids ran in front of them. They all seemed to be chasing one kid at the head of the group.

“Run, Forrest, run!” Dean shouted after them.

“Sorry Dean, but I don’t think anything’s going on around here.”

“How the hell was I supposed to get a look at it?” A male voice shouted nearby, “It grabbed me from behind and threw me into a tree!” A guy in a flannel shirt and vest was yelling at a police officer.

“ _Something’s_ going on.” They made a detour over to the pair.

“Yeah, ok, Gus.” Tara could see the cop roll his eyes from here, “I understand you got shook up. Anyone would be. But don’t you think it–don’t you think it had to be a bear?”

“I know a damn bear track when I see one! This thing didn’t leave bear tracks! It’s feet were huge.” Gus was getting more and more aggravated by the second.

“Now, Gus–”

“It was Bigfoot, Hal! _The_ Bigfoot!”

“Tara, badge.” Dean muttered. He and Sam were pulling theirs out, and Tara felt her cheeks flush.

“It’s in the car.” She mumbled.

“Ok, then just play along.”

“There’s a Bigfoot out there, damn it, and he’s a son of a bitch!”

“Excuse us.” Sam flashed his badge, “FBI.” Dean raised his own.

“What?”

“Yes, sir. We’re here about the, um,” He nodded at Gus, “That.”

“About Bigfoot?” The cop was incredulous.

“That’s right. Sir, can you tell me exactly where this happened?”

“Yes I can.” Gus was more than happy to cooperate.

\------

Gus directed them farther inland, to a deer path only serious hunters used. Once they parked the car, it was about a twenty minute hike to the spot Gus described. It was perfect weather for hiking. The sun had gone behind some clouds and there was a light breeze on the air. Tara inhaled a deep breath of the forest air. It had really been too long since she’d gone hiking.

“Sorry, Tara.” Sam said after they’d been walking in silence for awhile, “I guess this isn’t quite as cut-and-dry of a case as we thought.” 

“That’s alright, I’m still getting experience, right?”

“Yeah.” Dean muttered, “And so are we. I mean, what the hell is going on in this town? First there’s a ghost that’s not real and now a Bigfoot sighting?”

“Every hunter worth their salt knows Bigfoot’s a hoax.” Sam supplied.

“Maybe somebody’s pumping LSD into the town water supply.”

“Well if they are, we’ll know when Sam starts seeing things.” Sam was about to protest, but Tara kept going, “I mean, you did have water at that Chinese place, right?” But all her amusement vanished when they came across footprints on the trail. Big, very not-bearlike tracks. But it wasn’t human either.

“Ok.” Dean cocked his head, “What do you supposed made _that_?”

“That...uh...is a big foot.”

“I guess this rules out LSD in the water supply.”

The tracks followed the trail higher into the hills, and Tara kept pace with the Winchesters easily. Eventually, the trail carried them to its end at the edge of town. A wooden bridge with white, chipped paint led across the ravine between the trail and the town to a cheap liquor store. The tracks led straight to the bridge.

On the other side, the tracks resumed again, going right to the store’s back door. The door that was hung askew. There was no sound coming from inside. Dean looked at Sam, and then at Tara. Clearly this thing wasn’t just a wild animal.

“Ok.” They headed inside. Sam and Dean had their guns readily accessible, but Tara hadn’t felt ready to carry a firearm on her yet, so she had her hands free to grab whatever was available. 

The store was deserted. Not a clerk or other worker in sight, but there was also no blood on the floor, so that was good too. The creature had tracked dirt all the way to the alcohol section, and had left a trail of spilled junk food in its wake. 

“So what, Bigfoot breaks into a liquor store jonesing for some hooch?” There was a puddle of alcohol and broken glass, and even without her cat nose, Tara could smell the sweet tang of it. Dean crouched to read the labels.

“Amaretto and Irish Cream. He’s a girl-drink drunk.”

“Hey, do _not_ knock Bailey’s until you’ve had it poured over ice cream.” Dean looked at her.

“And how would you know that? You’re barely twenty-one and most of that time you were a cat.”

“Please. You think I stayed shut up in libraries and my dorm room my first two years at school? I had a life you know, at least before D–” She stopped herself in the knick of time, “Before what happened happened.” The boys shared a look. There seemed to be more to her story than what she’d told them, but they knew that pressing the matter now would only make her clam up. Tara ignored them both, grabbing a bottle of Bailey’s and some Fireball whiskey off the shelf.

“Now _that’s_ more like it.” Dean grabbed the whiskey and tucked it away in his jacket, along with another bottle. Tara held the Bailey’s out to him, and he recoiled like she was offering him a snake.

“Take it!” She insisted, “Chicken.” Dean glared, but snatched the bottle and tucked it away too.

“Hey, check this out.” Sam was standing by a rack of magazines. One of the sections had been almost totally cleared out.

“He took the whole porno rack?” Tara’s eyes went wide when she realized what was on the cover of the magazine that was still there. Sam reached out, and pulled a tuft of black fur free from the rack.

“Well, I’ll say it again. What the hell’s going on in this town?”

The three of them went out the front of the store. Sam and Dean were almost in a daze as they sat down in unison on the bench outside, squishing Tara between them. She wriggled a bit. Sam jumped and shifted down a couple inches, but Dean didn’t seem to notice. He was just shaking his head, looking off into the middle distance.

“I got nothing.”

“It’s gotta be a joke, right? Some big-ass mother in a gorilla suit?”

“Or it’s Bigfoot. You know, and he’s some kind of alcoholo-porno addict. Kind of like a deep-woods Duchovny.” Tara looked at him, not sure whether he was being serious or not. But before she could ask, a little girl on a bike came riding up the street. The basket on the back of her bike was full, and as she passed, a gust of wind blew something off the top. All three of them got up to investigate. Tara reached the magazine first, but couldn’t bring herself to pick it up when she saw the topless girl on the cover. Dean had no such shame. Both he and Sam took a moment to stare at the cover before looking in the direction the girl had gone.

“She’s a little young for _Busty Asian Beauties_.”

They followed her around the back, waiting out of sight until the girl walked her bike onto the bridge. The basket on the back was empty now.

As soon as she was out of sight, the three of them investigated the back again. There was a cardboard box sitting on the steps, full of alcohol and adult magazines, accompanied by a simple ‘sorry’ written on a piece of paper.

\------

Finding the girl’s home was easy. She left her bike in plain view on the front lawn. The only thing that kept Tara from running as far away from Sam and Dean as she could was the fact that they seemed uncomfortable that they just followed a young girl home. To her, it didn’t matter how long they’d been in this line of work, there just had to be some things that normal, sane people never got used to. This time, Tara tucked her FBI badge into her pocket as they exited the car.

“What’s this, like a Harry and the Hendersons deal?” Dean said as they walked up to the house. Sam couldn’t muster up a response, and Tara was too busy trying to calm down. 

Almost as soon as Dean knocked on the door, it opened.

“Hello?” It was the young girl.

“Hello!” Sam tried to be as friendly as he could, “Um, could we–you know what, are your parents home?”

“Nope.” The girl replied nonchalantly.

“No?” All three of them asked. How could her parents not be home? Tara’s parents had never left her home alone until she was thirteen, at least, and even then she wasn’t allowed to answer the door.

“Um, have you seen a really, really, furry–”

“Is he in trouble?” The girl interrupted Dean. Her concern was the first real emotion she’d shown.

“No! N-no. We just–we wanted to make sure he was ok.” Tara was officially impressed by their ability to bullshit on the spot.

“Exactly.” Dean played along. Tara just nodded.

“He’s my teddy bear. I think he’s sick.” She whispered the second part, as if the teddy bear could overhead everything she said.

“Wow, uh...amazing. Cause you know what? We,” Dean pointed at Sam and Tara. Sam reached to get his badge, and Tara did the same, “Are teddy bear doctors.” They flashed their health inspector badges. Tara didn’t have one of those yet, so she just covered the big, blue FBI letters on hers as she opened it.

“Really? Can you please take a look at him?” The girl bought right into the con.

“Sure.”

“Sure, yeah.” And the girl let them inside with no other questions asked.

The house was clean, given that the girl’s parents weren’t home. Tara had been half-expecting to see toys all over the floor. But the girl just led them right upstairs.

“He’s in my bedroom. He’s pretty grumpy.” She knocked on the first door on the right.

“Teddy? There’s some nice doctors here to see you.” She didn’t wait for a response and opened the door.

The room was dark, the curtains had been drawn and the only light was coming from the TV. But that’s not what made Tara’s jaw drop. Sitting in front of the TV was a massive teddy bear. Not a real black bear, but a big, stuffed bear. As soon as the door opened, it turned towards them.

“Close the friggin’ door!” Its little mouth moved up and down, and the voice definitely came from the bear. The girl did as the bear demanded, not at all phased by it.

“See what I mean?” Tara covered her mouth before the girl could see the dumbstruck look on her face. Sam and Dean looked just as shocked, eyes wide and unblinking.

“All I ever wanted was a teddy bear which was big, real, and talked. But now he’s sad all the time. Not ‘ouch’ sad, but ouch-in-the-head sad, says weird stuff, and smells like the bus.” This girl was much more mature than her age led Tara to believe. And if this girl could pull herself together, then so could she.

“Um, little girl–”

“Audrey!”

“Audrey.” Dean repeated, “How exactly did your teddy bear become real?”

“I wished for it.”

“You wished for it?” Sam confirmed.

“Did someone ask you what you wanted?” Tara found her voice, “Maybe a stranger who smelled funny?” Audrey shook her head.

“I wished for it at the wishing well.” Dean stepped forward and opened the door again. Now, the teddy had a bottle of booze in his hand.

“Look at this.” He was rocking back and forth. Displayed on the TV was news of a bombing in the Middle East that had left over a thousand people dead. The bear chuckled, “You believe this crap?”

“Not really.”

“It is a terrible world.” The bear acted like he hadn’t heard Dean, “Why am I here?!”

“For tea parties!” Audrey insisted. The bear scoffed.

“Tea parties? Is that all there is?” Dean turned back to Tara and Sam. He had a very disturbed expression on his face. Without a word, he grabbed the handle and yanked the door shut, but not before the teddy bear started crying. 

“Audrey, give us a sec, ok?” Tara whirled around, standing between them.

“Ok.” She whispered, “What the fuck. I know you guys said this job is weird, but–”

“Oh, trust me. This is a new level even for us.”

“So...what are we gonna do?”

“Are we...should we…” Sam trailed off, “Are we gonna kill this teddy bear?” He finally spat out.

“How? Do we shoot it? Burn it?”

“I don’t know. Both?”

“Shoot it with where? It’s not like it has organs–just fluff!” Tara hissed.

“Exactly. How do we even know that’s gonna work? I mean, I don’t want some giant, flaming, pissed off teddy on our hands.”

“Yeah.” Sam agreed.

“And even if it does, what if Audrey just wishes for another one?”

“I get the sense that this teddy isn’t really the, you know, core problem here.”

“But we can’t leave her here with it. She’s a child!”

“Audrey.” Sam turned back to face her, “Where are your parents?”

“My mom wished they were in Bali, so I think they’re in Bali.” How was this kid still alive?

“Ok.” Sam improvised, “Well, I’m really sorry to have to break this to you, but, your bear is sick. Yeah, he’s got…”

“Lollipop disease.” Dean covered for him.

“Lollipop disease.” Tara and Sam repeated.

“It’s not uncommon for a bear his size. But, see, it’s really contagious–”

“Yeah, so is there someone, maybe a grown up, that you can stay with while we treat him?”

“Mrs. Hurley lives down the street.”

“Perfect.”

“Yeah, good.”

“We’d like you to stay there for a few days, ok?”

“Ok.” She looked a little dejected, so Tara knelt down.

“Your bear’s gonna be just fine, ok? Promise.” Audrey nodded, but didn’t quite look convinced.

“Oh, and Audrey? Where is this wishing well?”

“It’s at Lucky Chen’s!”

Tara, Sam, and Dean couldn’t get out of that house fast enough. They waited in the Impala until Audrey left. She had a backpack on, and went three houses down the street. As soon as she was safely inside, they went over to Lucky Chen’s.

It wasn’t quite the dinner rush yet, but a fair amount of tables were occupied when they walked in. A little kid, younger than Audrey, walked away from the well as they approached. At first glance, it just looked like a normal wishing well. Brown stone, water being supplied by a little fountain on the wall. There were several coins shining on the bottom.

“Think it works?” Dean asked. 

“Got a better explanation for teddy back there?” Sam countered.

“Well, there’s one way to find out.” Dean fished a quarter out of his pocket. Already, a plan was forming in Tara’s head. If this thing really did work, then maybe she would never need to talk to an angel.

“What are you gonna wish for?”

“Shh.” Dean tossed the coin in, “You’re not supposed to tell.” Tara watched the coin sink to the bottom.

“Somebody order a footlong Italian with jalapeño?” A guy wearing a green uniform had just come into the restaurant.

“That’d be me.” Dean raised his hand and accepted the sandwich, free of charge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick life update: I just moved back to University, and classes start Monday. Updates might be a little slower, but I'll try and do at least one every week.  
> Thanks so much for all the kudos and comments! They make my day.


	14. A Wish Just Out of Reach

The three of them claimed a table and Dean eagerly unwrapped his sandwich. The booth was small, and since Dean was happily taking up his whole side, Tara had to squeeze in next to Sam. Being this close to him now, she could smell him again. She’d almost forgotten the sandalwood musk in his cologne that accompanied the hints of old books and leather on him. 

And he was warm. Tara could feel his body heat radiating from him. Not that she was particularly cold or anything, but it still took her entire will not to lean against him.

“I think it works, guys.” Dean said around a mouthful of sandwich, “That was pretty specific.”

“The teddy bear, the sandwich.”

“Mm.” Dean put his sub down and pulled the newspaper he’d been reading earlier out of his jacket. Seriously, just how much could he keep in that coat?

“I guessing this.” He pointed at the headline. A local man had won millions playing the lottery.

“I’m guessing _that_.” Sam drew their attention to the couple sitting not far from them. The man wasn’t much to look at–middle aged, balding, less-than-average looks and body, but his girlfriend was something else. Gorgeous, dark hair, slim figure, and a beautiful laugh. Tara couldn’t help running her eyes up and down her body.

“Well that definitely goes on the list.” Dean agreed, “But what are we supposed to do, huh? Stop people’s wishes from coming true? Sounds like kind of a douch-ey thing to do.”

“Yeah, maybe. But come on, man. When has something like this ever come without a price tag? And usually a deadly one.”

“I dunno, it’s a damn good sandwich.” Sam wasn’t backing down, giving Dean a bitchface until he gave in, “Alright, fine. We’ll put a hold on the wishing til we figure out what’s going on.” But Tara wasn’t sure she agreed with Sam. It would be good to figure out what the price tag was, yeah, but did they really have to dismantle the fountain afterwards? Or maybe she should just make her wish and then dismantle the fountain before it goes bad. And this was assuming that all the wishes went bad.

“Tara?” Sam nudged her, “You ok?”

“Gentlemen, gentlemen. And lady.” A waiter saved Tara from having to lie to Sam, “I’m sorry. We don’t allow people to eat outside food here.” He referred to Dean’s sandwich. Tara felt her cheeks flare up, even though she wasn’t the one with the outside food, but Dean was unperturbed.

“Well, I certainly am not gonna eat the inside food here.” He started going through the pockets of his jacket looking for the right badge. It took a couple tries, but eventually he got it.

“Health Department.” Sam pulled his own and Tara found a very interesting spot on the floor to look at, “You, my friend, have a rat infestation. We’re gonna have to shut this place down under emergency hazard code 56C.”

“Rats?!” The waiter’s cry caught the attention of everyone in the restaurant, and Dean took full advantage of that.

“That’s right, rats. Everyone out. This place is closed until further notice.”

As soon as everyone was gone, the first thing Sam and Dean did was drain the fountain. While Tara and Sam swept up the coins, Dean examined the fountain itself for any sign of spellwork, which Sam quietly explained could be anything from a hex bag in a hidden pocket to carvings, or even a statue.

“Typical fountain, plaster Buddha, nothing I can see.” Dean concluded.

“Yes, nothing.” The owner confirmed, “We keep a clean place here.”

“Sir, I’m gonna have to ask you to leave during the preliminary investigation, ok?” Sam was much more gentle, but still left no room for argument, “Thank you.” The owner walked away and the three of them turned back to the fountain.

“Oh, come on. Aren’t you a little bit tempted?” Dean tossed Sam a coin.

“No.” Sam chuckled, “Wouldn’t be real. I wouldn’t trust it.” He handed the coin back.

“No? What about you, Hershey?” He offered the coin, but she was too busy studying the white bottom of the fountain to notice. Could this fountain be the answer to everything?

“I don’t know.” She responded, “Some things don’t have to be real to make you feel like your wish came true.” Sam and Dean shared a look over the top of her head, and Dean pocketed the coin. 

“In any case, that bear seemed pretty real. Come on, if you could wish yourself back, you know, before it all started, think about it–you’d be some big yuppie lawyer with a nice car and a white picket fence.” Sam smiled.

“Not what I’d wish for.”

“I would.” Tara whispered, too soft for the boys to hear, _And I wouldn’t even have to go back very far either._

“Seriously?”

“It’s too late to go back to our old lives, Dean. I’m not that guy anymore.”

“Alright, well what then? What would Sammy wish for? Or Tara, what about you?” He bumped her a bit and she jumped.

“What?”

“I just asked you and Sam what you would wish for.” Dean said. Tara managed a tight smile.

“Lilith’s head on a plate. Bloody.” Sam answered first, giving Tara a minute to come up with a reasonable lie.

“You know, I’ve always wanted my own horse.”

“Ok.” Dean had a feeling that wasn’t her primary wish, but he let it slide when something at the bottom of the fountain caught his attention.

“What is that?” It was a coin, much larger than any of the coins in the fountain. It didn’t look like American currency. Dean tried to pick it up, but the coin wouldn’t budge.

“Some kind of old coin.” Sam leaned over the edge, “I don’t recognize the markings.”

“Damn.” Dean grunted.

“Lift with your legs.” He strained, pulling with all his might, but couldn’t get the coin to move a millimeter.

“Is that little mother welded on there?”

“Let me try.” Tara knelt and reached into the fountain. Carefully, she ran the edge of her nail around the coin. It wasn’t welded on, she could feel where the coin ended and the fountain began, but she couldn’t get her nail under it. Suddenly, her nail gave and her hand slammed against the side of the fountain.

“Ah! Fuck.” Her nail had ripped down to the quick, but there was no blood.

“I told you last week to cut those damn claws.” 

“Shut up.” She squeezed her thumb to numb the pain, “They aren’t that long.”

“Like a third of the length is white. That’s not long, that’s obscene.” Dean corrected, but Tara rolled her eyes. 

“I think that coin has been superglued or something.”

“Superglue we can work with.”

They went back out to the car briefly to grab a few things. Dean grabbed a crowbar, Sam took a hammer, and Tara retrieved the nail clippers and file from her backpack. She also swung the duffel bag Dean handed her over her shoulder. When they went back into the restaurant, the owner followed them back to the fountain.

“Hey, hey, what is this?” He objected when Dean positioned the crowbar by the coin and pushed, “You’re gonna break my fountain!”

“Sir, I don’t wanna slap you with a 44/16, but I will.” The owner backed off again, but kept watching from a distance, “Alright, thanks.”

“Let me see that.” Dean took the hammer from Sam, I got an idea.” Tara gritted her teeth and cut off as much of the broken nail as she could. The air made the newly exposed skin feel raw, but she ignored the discomfort and began to file the jagged edge. Meanwhile, Dean repositioned the crowbar until it stood on its own. Then, after shooting a boyish grin at Sam, he brought the hammer down on it.

Wood splintered as the handle broke, sending the iron end of the hammer flying behind them. The coin hadn’t moved.

“Ho!” The owner cried out in shock.

“Damn.” Dean examined the part of the handle that was still in his hand.

“Coin’s magical.” Sam said.

“Boy, I’d say. I think it’s hoodoo, it’s protecting the well.” 

“So what do we do now?” Tara asked. Sam fished a piece of paper and pencil out of his jacket and leaned into the fountain again.

“I don’t think we can destroy this.” Dean was rummaging through the duffel bag he’d given Tara, but nothing in there would do the job if a hammer and crowbar couldn’t.

“Alright, here.” Sam handed Dean the etching he took of the coin, “You two gotta look into this.”

“Where are you going?”

“Something just occurred to me.” But he didn’t elaborate. Instead, he just walked out the door, leaving Dean and Tara to awkwardly tell the owner to stay closed until further notice.

\------

“Ok.” Dean said as he walked up to the Impala, “I say let’s find us a motel and get going on, uh, this.” He waved the etching.

“Actually, I had an idea.”

“What, about the coin? Why didn’t you speak up five minutes ago?”

“No, not about the coin. About the motels. I don’t want Sam to keep sleeping on the sofas.”

“So what then?”

“Back when I was at Seattle-Washington, freshman year almost our entire friend group lived on the same floor. But a few people didn’t, and sometimes they stayed over. My roommate Monica would sometimes lend us her air mattress. I was thinking I could get one for myself. That way no one sleeps on the sofa.

“Huh.” Dean considered it, “That’s actually not a terrible idea.”

“Wooow, thanks.” She rolled her eyes, “I saw a store on the way over here that I think will have them. So I’ll go there, and you just let me know which motel you pick.”

\------

An hour later, Tara was knocking on the door of the room Dean had specified with a box tucked under one arm. It was a single air mattress that came with a pump. All she had to do was plug it into the wall. Bobby had gotten her set up as his ‘daughter’ on one of his fake credit cards, and that’s what she’d used to pay for it. That had been very nerve wracking, given that she’d never paid for something dishonestly before. But it was something she’d have to get used to, right up there with seedy motels 

This was a nicer place than the motel they’d been in last night; it was an actual _hotel_ , and their room was on the second floor. There was a commotion inside, and Tara thought she heard Dean say something, but the door stayed closed.

“Dean?” She knocked again.

“Tara?” Sam was coming down the hall, “What’s going on?”

“It’s Dean. He won’t let me in.” Sam pulled a ring of slender silver tools out of a pocket and quickly picked the lock.

“Dean?” They ventured inside, just in time to hear the toilet flush. The bathroom door was closed, and Tara could hear Dean coughing through the door, “Are you alright?”

“The wishes turn bad, Sam. The wishes turn very bad.” He was cut off and Tara heard the tell-tale sounds of puking.

“The sandwich, huh?” The toilet flushed again and the door opened. Dean staggered into view, one trembling hand holding the door jamb like a lifeline, the other wiping his mouth with a towel. His face was pale and covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

“The coin was Babylonian. It’s cursed. I found some fragments of a legend.” He pointed to the computer sitting open on the table. Then he gagged, turning back towards the toilet, but he didn’t throw up, “I’m good.” He came out of the bathroom completely. Sam sat down at the table and Tara set the mattress box down between the beds. 

“The serpent is Tiamat. Which is the, uh, Babylonian god of primordial chaos.” Dean grabbed a beer from the fridge and sat down next to Tara on the bed, “I guess their priests were working some serious black magic.”

“They made the coin?”

“Yeah, to sow the seeds of chaos. Whoever tosses the coin in a wishing well and makes a wish turns on the well. Then it starts granting wishes to all comers.”

“But the wishes get twisted. You ask for a talking teddy–”

“–you get a bipolar nutjob.” Dean finished.

“And you get e-coli.” Sam sounded just a little smug. Dean grumbled.

“This thing has turned more than one town upside-down over the centuries. It’s even wiped a few off the map. I mean, one person gets their wish, its trouble, but everybody gets their wish…”

“It’s chaos.”

“So what do we do?” Tara asked, “We don’t have to track down Tia-whoever and kill him, right?” The last thing she wanted was to tangle with a giant snake.

“No, we gotta find the first wisher. Whoever dropped the coin in and made the first wish, they’re the only ones who can pull it back out and reverse the wishes. So right now, we got a couple ‘a nutso dreams come true, but once the word gets out about the well, things are just gonna get crazier and crazier.”

“Great. So how do we find the first wisher?” Tara looked back and forth between them, and Sam sighed.

“Research. And a lot of it.”

The three of them were up late into the early morning, trying to pinpoint any more people that seemed abnormally lucky. Tara had finally lost the battle against her eyelids around 2am. Sam and Dean turned in not long after, having found no workable leads yet.

\------

Tara was standing outside. Her beloved leather jacket zipped up against the cold winter wind. Flurries spun and swirled in the air, some landing on the ground, others catching in her hair. She looked down the street watching, waiting, a pair of paper tickets clutched in one hand. She was playing with the perforation on one of them, folding it back and forth, careful not to rip it. She checked her watch. 6:50. The setting sun was at her back, illuminating everyone out and about. Fellow college students on their way to parties, older couples having a night out. But she couldn’t find the face she was looking for. Tara glanced at the tickets again. _Casablanca – 7:00pm Showing_. So where was he?

A hand tapped her left shoulder, and she turned to look over her right one. He never fooled her anymore. She turned, her heart in her throat, wanting to see him–

“Dean! Wake up!” Sam’s voice sliced into her dream and it was gone in an instant. Her eyes snapped open, meeting nothing but the dark red wall of the hotel room. 

“I’m up! What?” Tara heard Dean sit up, but she stayed where she was. In fact, she only burrowed further under the blanket that had previously been at the foot of Sam’s bed. Tears of frustration welled in her eyes, spilling sideways down her face. She’d been so _close_! Just two more seconds would have been enough.

“Sleep well?”

“Yeah.” Dean sounded anything but well rested, “Tan, rested, and ready.”

“Ok, well pipe down. Tara’s still out.” Sam twisted the other way in his chair and glanced at her. She was still curled up on the air mattress facing the wall. The blanket from his bed was half over her head. He had to admit, the air mattress had been a great idea. It was portable and convenient for all of them. Tara could feel Sam’s eyes on her, confirming that she was still sleeping. So she regulated her breathing as best she could, and after a moment, he turned back to his brother.

“Dean, come on, man. You think I can’t see it?”

“See what?”

“The nightmares, the drinking. I’m with you 24/7, I know something’s going on.” That lined up with Tara’s quiet observations. Dean always seemed to have an abundance of alcohol on hand. And while she had noticed the nightmares as well, both before she got turned back and now, she’d just figured that that was an occupational hazard, as Sam had had a couple too. 

“Sam, please.” Dean tried to brush him off.

“Uriel wasn’t lying, but you are.” Sam kept pushing, “You remember Hell, don’t you?”

“What do you want from me, huh? What?”

“The truth, Dean. I mean, I’m your brother, I just wish you’d talk to me.”

“Careful what you wish for.” Dean’s skill for deflection and conversational redirection rivaled Tara’s.

“Cute.”

“Come on, can we stow the couple’s therapy? We’re on a job. I wanna work. What do you got?” Sam rolled his eyes and found a very interesting spot on the desk to glare at, “Please?” Sam finally gave in.

“We got teddy bear, lottery guy, invisible pervert guy. Tara dug up something on a cross country runner who recently set a 5k record. They all must have wished sometime in the last two weeks. But who wished first, and how are we supposed to know who else wished for what when?” Tara figured that now would be a safe time to ‘wake up’. She wiped the remnants of the tears from her face with the blanket and rolled over, stretching her arms over her head. The mattress shifted noisily beneath her, drawing the attention of both Winchesters.

“Morning. Do we have anything new?” She asked around a yawn.

“Maybe.” Dean waved a newspaper, “It helps when they announce it in the paper.” He pointed a particular article out to Sam, “Goes back a month.”

“Wesley Mondale and Ms. Hope Lynn Casey have announced their surprise engagement.” Tara looked over Sam’s shoulder.

“That’s that couple from the restaurant yesterday.”

“Ah, true love.”

“Or a magic coin.”

“Best lead we got.”

\------

The home of Wesley Mondale was a small, one-story place on the edge of town and on the brink of falling apart. It was certainly a step down for Hope. There was only room for one of them on the tiny porch, so Sam rang the doorbell while Dean and Tara stood just behind him.

“Hello?” Hope answered the door. She was wearing a tight red top and a denim skirt.

“Ms. Casey. We’re from Concrete Floral–” Her face lit up.

“Please come in!” She left the door wide open and the three of them followed her into the living room. Given the outward appearance of the house, Tara had braced herself for a dank-smelling interior, but she was pleasantly surprised by the smell of freshly cooked food.

“Wes! You didn’t tell me that you called the florist for the wedding!”

“Huh?” Unlike Hope, Wes was wearing ill-fitting clothes that clearly had never met an iron and smelled like he used way too much cologne.

“You’re the best! Ah!” Hope gave him a kiss on the forehead, “I’m gonna go get my folders.”

“Uh, ok.” Hope walked into the bedroom with a spring in her step.

“Wesley, how’s it going?”

“It’s We–” He started to get up, but Sam and Dean stepped forward. Wesley made the wise decision to remain seated when he realized how tall they were, “Aren’t you the guys from the health department?”

“Yeah. And florists on the side.”

“Plus FBI.”

“And US Marshals.”

“And on Thursdays, we’re teddy bear doctors.”

“Huh?”

“Doesn’t matter who we are, what matters is what we know.”

“So, coin collector, huh, Wes?” Sam glanced at the display of non-American coins on the wall.

“Oh, yeah. My...grandfather gave them to me.”

“You happen to lose one of those coins lately?” Dean asked, “And by ‘lose’ I mean drop into a wishing well and Lucky Chen’s and make a wish on it?”

“No, I–I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Tara shook her head.

“Wes, I just started doing this and even I know that was a lie.”

“Ok now.” Hope came back into the room with several folders in her arms, “I have a lot of ideas, but you know, we don’t have all the money in the world. Wes is between jobs right now. Means more time for me!” Tara found it incredibly difficult to put a smile on her face. This poor woman had had her life completely hijacked and she had no idea.

“You know, I’m thinking a Japanese-ey ikebana kinda thing.” She found the folder she was talking about and held it out.

“Yes, I can see it.”

“Yeah.”

“Sounds lovely.”

“So Hope, uh, tell us how you two lovebirds met.” Sam sent Wes a meaningful glance while Hope was distracted with her folders.

“Oh, best day of my life.” She gushed.

“I bet.”

“Yeah! It’s the funniest thing. We both grew up here, but I never really knew who he was. Not by name anyway.” She sighed, “Until one day last month, it was like I just,” She sighed again, “It was like a saw him for the first time. He was just...glowing. Oh, just glowing.” She wasn’t even looking at Sam anymore. She was all over Wesley.

“Uh, babe, can you get us some coffee?”

“Yes, yeah.” She kissed him.

“Oh, ok.” But she just kept kissing him. Again, and again. She seemed to have forgotten that the ‘florists’ were less than two feet away. Sam and Dean just kind of gawked with dropped jaws as Hope kept going, releasing little sighs and moans. Tara felt blood rush to her face and she just couldn’t bring herself to look away. 

Finally, Wesley managed to push Hope back a bit.

“Yeah.” She went into the kitchen like nothing had happened.

“Wes, we know.” Sam said bluntly, not that Wesley had any room to deny it now, “So tell us the truth.”

“My–my grandfather found the coin in North Africa. You know, World War II,” He took one of the display cases off the wall, “And he brought it back. He, um, he said it was a real wish-granting coin but that nobody should ever use it.” He looked at the case in his hands to avoid looking at Sam, Dean, or Tara, “It was all I had, and when he died, I thought ‘Well you know what? Why _not_ give the coin a shot?’”

“Yeah, well, now you’re gonna wish it back.”

“Oh.” Wesley laughed a bit, but then he seemed to realize that they weren’t joking, “Oh. Ha ha, no I’m not.”

“If you don’t stop it, something bad’s gonna happen.”

“Something bad, like us.” Sam pushed his shoulders back a hair, making him seem bigger. Wesley wasn’t impressed, but then Dean pulled out his gun.

“We _really_ wish you’d come with us.” The appearance of the gun took all the fight out of Wesley. He made his excuses to Hope and followed them out to the car.

\------

“I don’t get it.” Wesley was sprawled in the backseat, and Tara was pushing herself up against the door to keep from touching him, “So my wish came true. Why does that have to be a bad thing?”

“Because the wishes go south, Wes. Your town is going insane.”

“I mean, come on. You’re gonna sit there and tell me that your relationship with Hope is functional? That it’s what you wished for?”

“I wished she would love me more than anything.” He leaned forward onto the front bench.

“That’s healthy.” Tara scoffed.

“Yeah, and how’s that going?”

“Well it’s a hell of a lot better than when she didn’t know I was alive.”

“You’re not supposed to get what you want, man. Not like this. Nobody is. That’s what the coin does; it takes your heart’s desires and it twists it back on you.” But not right away, at least that’s how it seemed. If they got Wes to go along with this, Tara would only need five minutes. Just five. To make her wish.

“You know the whole ‘Be careful what you wish for?’” Dean glanced back at Wesley. Then suddenly the Impala jerked, rearing up in the front then the back like it just went over a speed bump. Everyone looked out the back window, but Tara couldn’t see anything.

“Did we just hit something?”

“I didn’t see anything.” Dean shrugged it off.

“Careful what you wish for.” Wesley mocked Dean, “You know who says that? Good-looking jerks like you guys. The ones who’ve got it so easy because you happen to be handsome.” 

“Easy?” Sam and Dean asked in unison.

“Yeah, women look at you, right? They notice you.” He pointed at Tara, “Case and point.”

“Hey! I am not involved with either of them and I don’t appreciate the assumption. It takes more than looks to catch my eye and the eye of any self-respecting woman.” Not that Sam and Dean weren’t good looking though.

“Attagirl, Hershey.” 

“Believe us, we do not have it easy.”

“We are miserable.” Dean continued, “We never get what we want. In fact, we have to fight tooth and nail just to keep whatever it is we got.”

“But you know what? Maybe that’s the whole point, Wes.”

“Yeah, people are people cause they’re miserable bastards. Cause they never get what they really want.”

“Yeah, because if you got what you wanted all the time, you’d stop being a decent human being.”

“Exactly. You’d get crazy.”

“Just take a look at Michael Jackson, hm? Or Hasselhoff.”

“You know what? Hope loves me now, completely. And it’s awesome. Besides, look around. Where’s all this insanity you guys were talking about?”

As Dean pulled up to a stop sign, Tara became aware of yelling nearby. The source was a car parked in a lot across the street. A bunch of kids had locked themselves inside it, and another kid–the one they had been chasing yesterday–was lifting it from the bottom. He was well on his way to tipping it over.

“Insanity at 12 ‘o clock.” She muttered

“Well that should cover it.” Even as they sat at the stop sign, the kid, who couldn’t have been more than seven, tipped the car onto its side with a massive crash.

“Kneel before Todd!” He shouted at the sky, “Kneel before Todd!” He went up to the car and started shoving at the undercarriage. Tara could hear the kids inside screaming. Dean moved fast, getting out of the Impala with the engine still running.

“I’ll handle Todd, you get Wes to Lucky Chen’s.” 

“Right.” Sam scooted over on the bench and Tara took the opportunity to clamber over the front bench. It was an attempt to put some distance between her and Wesley, but he just leaned further onto the front bench as he gaped at the chaos.

It was a quick rush up Main Street, and since Lucky Chen’s was still closed, Sam was able to parallel park pretty much right in front of it. Wes was out of the car first.

“That–that kid turned over that car like it was nothing!”

“You should have seen the teddy bear.” Tara said, shuddering at the memory.

“And the invisible guy.” Sam added, “Now come on. Fun’s over. Time to pull the coin.” But Wes didn’t move.

“Wes!”

“Well why can’t we just get what we want?!”

“Because that’s life, Wes.” Out of nowhere, a thunderhead formed in a perfectly clear sky, and a bolt of lightning came down, striking Sam. He fell to the ground, unmoving.

“Sam!” Tara fell to her knees by his side, feeling for a pulse, but there was nothing, “Damn it!” Now the only way to bring him back was to make Wes pull the coin. And for Tara to not have her five minutes. Wes just stood over her and Sam, dumbstruck.

“You get in there,” She pointed at him, “And you pull that fucking coin.” Pain built up in Tara’s chest, and not just from the prospect of not getting to make her wish, “You pull that–ah!” She clutched at her chest as the pain became overwhelming. Her head was light. Tara breathed deeply, but that only resulted in the world going black. Her heart gave out, and her body fell beside Sam’s.

\------

Sam and Tara gasped awake. Tara’s hand immediately went to her chest, but the pain was gone. Sam rolled over, confused. Why was he on the ground? Why was Tara on the gound next to him? The last thing he remembered was an instant of blinding pain.

“Tara?”

“Sam! You’re alive!” She sat up.

“W-what?”

“You got struck by lightning out of nowhere and then you–you just collapsed! And then I–” Her hand went back to her chest, “Wait. Did I die?” Sam allowed himself an amused huff.

“Yeah, I think so. But Wes must have pulled the coin.” He got up and looked around. There was no sign of violence or chaos as far as he could see. Tara stood on shaking legs, trying to come to terms with the fact that she had legit just _died_. And she didn’t remember anything. Sam placed a steadying hand on her shoulders, and Tara couldn’t help but lean into his touch a bit. And not because she needed help staying standing.

The door to Lucky Chen’s opened and Hope walked out. She had a denim jacket on now over her red top. There was no recognition in her eyes when she looked at them. Just attraction when her gaze fell on Sam. But that was fleeting, and she continued down the street in a daze. The door opened again. This time, Wes walked out, a crushed look on his face. He seemed a little surprised to see that Sam and Tara were alive, but didn’t comment on it. He just shuffled over and held out the coin.

Sam accepted it without a word, turning it over in his hand to examine the back that had been glued to the bottom of the well. Wes’s eyes didn’t leave the coin. Like part of him wanted to grab it back. Sam pocketed the coin.

“Listen–”

“I don’t wanna hear it.” Wes slunk off down the street. Tara watched him go. He had a serious stalker vibe about him, but ultimately, he’d done the right thing. She couldn’t help but feel a pinch sorry for him.

Sam squeezed her shoulder, prompting her to look up at him.

“We should go find Dean.”

Since the day was nearly over, and since they hadn’t committed any crimes that would get them on the cops’ radar, they decided to find a way to destroy the coin before they blew town. While Sam did that, Tara insisted that she and Dean get takeout from a little Italian place just down the block from Lucky Chen’s. They sat on a bench at the dock, eating. 

“You know,” Dean said around a mouthful of pizza, “I heard what you said.”

“What do you mean?”

“Yesterday. By the fountain at Lucky Chen’s. You said you’d wish yourself back in time. Now call me crazy, but that’s not something someone does for just a casual friend.” Tara hung her head and put down her takeout box. There were only a few noodles and one shrimp left anyway.

“Dylan.” She finally whispered, “His name was Dylan. We were together for a year and a half, almost exactly.”

“I’m sorry.” Dean put a hand on her back, “I don’t know what it’s like to lose someone like that.”

“Afterwards, I just...I couldn’t stay. All our friends tip-toed around me, you know? Like I was made of glass. And everywhere I went, I saw...him, us. Memories. I couldn’t stay.” Tara rubbed her eyes, wiping away the tears.

“Listen, I probably shouldn’t be telling you this,” Tara tore her eyes away from the weathered wood of the dock, “But Sam lost his girlfriend. Four years ago now. That’s how he got back into the life. Now I’m all for burying shit like that, but if you ever need to talk to someone who can understand what you’re going through–not, not that I’m telling you you can’t talk to me, because you can–but–”

“Dean.” Tara cut him off, a smile forming on her face at his awkwardness, “Thanks. And I will. Talk to Sam, I mean.” Maybe.

“Just maybe don’t mention that I spilled the beans about Jessica.”

“Sure thing.” Tara looked down the dock, and saw Sam coming towards them. He looked completely oblivious to their conversation, so Tara sat up straighter and managed a little wave at Audrey, who was walking in the other direction with two very sunburnt individuals behind her. Her parents, no doubt. Her teddy was back to a normal size, though he had a wrap around his head now.

“Well, the coin’s melted down.” Sam said when he got in earshot, “It shouldn’t cause any more problems.”

“Audrey’s parents are back from Bali. Looks like all the wishes are gone. And so are we.” Tara grabbed her takeout trash and they started walking back down the dock.

“Hang on a second.” Dean reached for Sam’s arm, but he stopped on his own.

“What?” From the way Dean was shifting his weight, he was very uncomfortable.

“Do you need me to...go do anything?” Tara asked.

“No.” Dean shook his head, “No it’s ok after...” He jerked his head towards the bench they’d been sitting on. Sam glanced between them, but didn’t get the chance to ask what was up.

“You were right.” Dean addressed Sam.

“About what?”

“I shouldn’t have lied to you. I _do_ remember everything that happened to me in the pit.” Tara just barely stopped an audible gasp from escaping her lips. That was far more personal than anything she’d just confessed to him, “Everything.”

“So tell me about it.” Sam prompted.

“No. I won’t lie anymore. But I not gonna talk about it.”

“Dean, look. You can’t just shoulder this thing alone. You gotta let me help.”

“How? Do you really think that a little heart-to-heart, some sharing and caring is gonna change anything? Somehow...heal me? I’m not talking about a bad day, here.”

“I know that.” Sam didn’t appreciate that Dean was talking to him like he was a kid again.

“The things that I saw…” For a moment, it looked like he was going to cry, but he kept it together, “There aren’t words. There is no forgetting. There’s no making it better.” His jaw trembled and he tapped his temple, “Because it is right here. Forever. You wouldn’t understand. And I could never make you understand, just like neither of you could make me understand. So I am sorry.” Sam swallowed thickly as he tried to digest everything Dean had just said. Dean’s inclusion of Tara in that statement had been confusing to say the least, but Sam was more focused on the fact that Dean had opened up, even just a little bit. To him, that was progress. Even if Dean was refusing to look in his general direction as they walked back to the car. 

Tara was just as lost in her own head. Her mind spinning from Dean’s revelations about himself and about Sam. She would never have guessed something like and she wanted to talk to him, talk to someone who could understand.

But she couldn’t. Because that would only result in her liking him more. Not that she liked him to begin with, she reminded herself, it was too soon for that. And it would probably always be too soon.


	15. Hustle

For the next week or so, Sam, Dean, and Tara bounced from state to state, investigating cases. So far, there had been one vengeful spirit who had attached himself to his wedding ring his wife had kept. 

Tara’s gun and self defense training continued courtesy of Dean, and Sam covered other skills like research and hacking. She even made her first fake ID at some Kinko’s in Nevada–a Health Inspector badge, so they didn’t have another hiccup like Concrete. The boys had tried to talk her into getting a fed suit, but in response, Tara pulled out some of her more professional clothing: a green dress with a fern pattern and a blue blazer, plus two pairs of business pants and blouses to go with them. Ultimately, the only thing she’d needed to buy were a couple pairs of sensible flats.

But tonight, Dean was taking a different approach in her hunter training.

They’d stopped in Iowa for the night on their way back to Bobby’s. The detour had been for a weird death in town, but that was looking more and more like a freak accident than a case. So they called it a day around five and found the closest bar. It was a dive, just like all the other places they’d been to, but the water was cold and the food was good so Tara wasn’t complaining.

“Alright.” Dean said as soon as the waiter took their empty dishes away, “You know how to commit credit card fraud, so that’s good. But that’s only one way of getting income. More often than not, you need some cold hard cash on you.

“Ok.” Tara leaned back in her chair, “So how do you guys get that?” Dean pointed at the billiards table sitting not far from the bar area. No one was playing on it at the moment. In fact, there wasn’t much of a crowd in the bar to begin with, given that it was barely sunset on a Monday night.

“One word: Hustle.”

Dean racked the balls and handed Tara a cue. Sam stood off to the side, leaning against the wall.

“Ok, you know the basic rules?”

“Yep.” Dean placed cue ball on the mark.

“Ok then, let’s see what you’ve got.” Tara crouched down, resting the cue on the thumb of her right hand.

“Woah, you’re a lefty?” She shrugged.

“Not all the time. Depends on what I’m doing.” She slid it experimentally a couple times before she rammed the cue ball into the tightly packed triangle. The some of the balls scattered, but for the most part, they stayed close together. None of them went into a pocket.

“Not bad.” Dean surveyed his options before promptly sinking the 15, “A few pointers though.” He sank the 9.

“Get your eye line as close to the table as you can.” The 12 went down.

“And sometimes,” He tapped the cue as gently as possible. It went on to just graze the 13, sending the orange striped ball into a side pocket, “Less force, even if it doesn’t get the ball in, leaves it closer to the hole.” To make his point, he slammed the cue into the 10. His angle was only slightly off, but the ball bounced on the edges of the corner pocket before rolling back into the middle of the table. 

Tara bent her knees, doing what Dean recommended and getting her eyes almost level with the table. She took a shot at the 2, but instead of rolling right along the bumper and into the corner pocket at the end, it bounced off it and went nowhere.

“Loosen your shoulders a bit and let your arm swing more freely.” Sam advised, “If you’re that tense, you might not hit the cue straight on.” Dean took another shot at the 10, but misjudged where the 6 was. The cue bumped it just enough to have it miss the 10 entirely. Tara smirked, picking up the cue ball.

“Hey!” Dean protested.

“You hit a solid before a stripe. That’s a scratch, which means it’s my ball.” Tara positioned the cue and quickly knocked the 3 into a side pocket. Dean narrowed his eyes.

“You’ve played more than you’re letting on.”

“No. The union at Seattle Washington had some really nice tables so we’d all go play on occasion. Once there were some really hardcore players there. I picked up the rules by watching them.” Dean sunk the 10 this time, but the 14 refused to go down quietly.

Tara grabbed the blue chalk sitting on the side of the table and chalked the tip of her cue. The 5 was lined up almost perfectly, but when she went to take the shot, she couldn’t get the angle right because the table was on her way.

“Where’s the bridge?” She checked to see if it was hanging on the side of the table. Dean snickered.

“Hershey, the first thing you’ve gotta learn about places like this is they’re not cushy college unions. No bridge.” Tara cringed, swung the cue around her back and leaned against the table. She couldn’t get the cue to slide straight, but she took the shot anyway. By some miracle, she sank the 3.

“Nice shot.” Sam raised his eyebrows.

“Thanks.” She sunk the 1 next, but then missed the 6.

“One more thing about this game.” Dean said as he lined up to shoot at the 11.

“There’s three aspects to it. Playing the other person,” The 11 went into the far corner, “Playing yourself,” He sank the 14 just as fast, and the cue rolled backwards and gave him a perfect shot with the 8 ball, “Eight ball, bank side pocket. And luck.” He took a shot. The 8 ball bounced off the bumper and rolled right into the side pocket, ending the game.

“Damn.” Tara tapped her cue on the floor, “Rematch?”

\------

Tara played two more games against Dean and three against Sam. She lost all of them. What was fun though, was watching Sam and Dean play against each other. They both swore like sailors, although that was more Dean than Sam, and they did everything they possibly could to distract the other while he was trying to concentrate. Ultimately, after an equal amount of dirty play from both sides, Dean came out over Sam 2-1.

“Ha!” Dean laughed when he succeeded in sinking the 8 ball after Sam barely missed, “You never could beat me, Sammy.”

“Shut up.” Sam rolled his eyes and took a swig of his beer as they moved back to the bar area. The restaurant was getting more crowded now, so they were getting ready to actually hustle someone. While Sam and Dean had played, Tara had gotten herself a beer. Beer wasn’t quite her thing, too much carbonation, too little flavor, but it helped give her the courage to ogle Sam when he wasn’t looking. The way the cue slid smoothly over his fingers, and how he swallowed right before he took a difficult shot made Tara’s mind go down a very sultry road.

About half an hour later, a big bald guy sporting a dark mustache and beard started circling the pool table with a cue, like he was waiting for an opponent.

“Here goes nothing.” Sam chugged the rest of his beer and walked over to him, making sure to stumble a bit on the stair going down.

The guy, after seeing how ‘drunk’ Sam was, was happy to start the betting off high. Two games later, Sam had lost two hundred bucks. The guy only scoffed, at first aiming to take the high road and trying to end Sam’s gambling there.

“Brian, come on, man. J-just gimme a chance to win it back.” Sam leaned heavily on his cue and the table. At this point, Dean got up and Tara followed him.

“Excuse me. My brother’s a little sauced to be making bets. Tara, grab your boyfriend’s cue.” Tara’s heart jumped when Dean referred to Sam as her boyfriend, but she played along.

“Hey, he insisted.” Tara reached for the cue, but Sam backed out of range.

“Yeah, but you’ve already taken, what, two bills off him? I’m just saying.”

“Hey, shut up, Dean. I’m fine.” He placed a hand on Tara’s shoulder, keeping her at arm’s length.

“No, you’re not fine. You’re drunk!” Brian was already racking the balls.

“Let’s make it five hundred.” Sam slapped a wad of cash down on the table.

“Five hundred?!” Tara exclaimed, “Come on, Sam. Let’s get you some water.” She took his hand and tried to pull him with her, but he was far too strong.

“Sure.” Brian agreed, matching with his own cash, “Five hundred, your break.” He twirled the rack as he lifted it off the balls. Tara backed off at this point, going to stand next to Dean. Sam placed the cue ball and bent down. Twice, the cue almost slid off his bridged fingers, but then he dropped the act. He slammed the cue into the racked balls, sinking two solids simultaneously. Brian’s jaw dropped just slightly and Sam stood back, giving his cue a satisfied twirl. Then his eyes drifted over to Dean and Tara. 

Tara was impressed, but also a little hurt. In none of the games she’d played against him had he done that; he’d been going easy on her. But then she realized that Sam wasn’t looking at her. He was looking at someone over her shoulder. She turned around, only to see that hooker-not-hooker from when she was still a cat sitting at the bar.

“Keep the money.” Sam tossed his cue down on the table and made a beeline for the bar.

“Keep the money? What–” His eyes finally found where Sam was going, and his jaw clenched.

“Great.” Brian went to grab the money, but Tara stepped forward.

“Wait.” She picked Sam’s cue up off the table, “Let me play for the money.” Brian chuckled.

“Sweetheart, I saw you play him earlier. Never got ahead once.”

“Let me try.” She insisted, digging out what little cash she had left in her wallet.

“Tara, what the hell are you doing?”

“Trust me.” She slapped the cash down, “I’ve got an extra thirty.” Brian laughed.

“Honey, that’s small fry compared to what your boyfriend just put down. But I’ll give you a shot.  _ If _ you come home with me for the night when I win.” Tara gulped. Playing for money was one thing, but that?

“Tara, don’t.” Dean grabbed her upper arm, making the decision for her. She yanked her arm back.

“I was out of practice earlier and I still have a couple cards to play.” She hissed, “This is a part of hunting. Let me do this.” Dean was torn, looking between Sam and Ruby at the bar back to Tara.

“Fine. But don’t lose until I get back.” He headed over to the bar. Meanwhile, Brian had pulled the balls Sam had sunk and re-racked them.

“Do we have a deal?” Tara nodded sharply.

“We do. It’s your break.” She went down to the far end of the table. Brian took aim and sent the cue rocketing into the triangle of balls. Despite his force, they remained mostly in that half of the table–except the 12, which went all the way to the other bumper. Nothing went down. Tara swapped her cue from one hand to the other as she examined her options. She still had an ace up her sleeve, but she was going to try and do this without it. Crouching, she looked down the length of her cue at the white ball, and then six inches further to the yellow 1. She took the shot, gently tapping the cue. It hit the 1 on an angle, sending it into the side pocket. She walked the table. There were two potential shots, at the 6 and the 7 respectively. She took aim at the 7 and sunk it in the corner pocket. 

But her streak ended there. The cue had ended up right against the large cluster of balls that still remained from the break. She took a shot at the 3. The cue ball just barely grazed it and hit the bumper. Then Brian stepped up.

Back and forth they went, fairly evenly matched. If Tara couldn’t sink something, she gave it her best shot, but also made sure to leave the cue ball in a place that didn’t give Brian a lot of options either. 

Before long, they were down to four balls on the table. The 8, the 11, the 6, and the 4. And it was still Tara’s turn. Of course, that’s when Ruby stormed out and Sam finally noticed that Tara wasn’t with them.

“Uh, where’s–”

“There.” Dean pointed to the pool table, “Playing for your money and to not spend the night with that creep who doesn’t care about sleeping with another man’s girl.” Sam felt rage boil up in his chest, even as Tara sank the 4, putting her one step closer to catching up with Brian.

“Hey!” He caught Brian’s attention as he stepped down into the billiards area, “What’s the big idea?” His sudden appearance made Tara jump and screw up her already-tough shot. The cue ball missed the 6 entirely, making it a scratch. Brian picked the cue ball up off the table.

“It was her idea, dude.” He slammed the 11 into a corner pocket, “8 ball, side pocket.” Tara felt her heart start to pound. It was an easy shot, one she could’ve made easily. But right as Brian took it, Dean ‘sneezed’. The cue ball went off course, making the 8 hit the bumper instead of going into the pocket. Tara exhaled shakily and took aim at the 6. It was a hard cut to the corner pocket, so she tapped the cue ball as lightly as she dared. The 6 rolled, just off target, but since she hadn’t used a lot of force, it bumped the edge and hovered right near the pocket. 

Brian scowled at the table. The 6 was taking up half the pocket he was going to be shooting at.

“8 ball, corner pocket.” He took the shot, but put too much spin on the cue. The 8 hit the bumper and stopped a few inches behind the 6. Tara took aim again, this time getting the 6 to go down. 

But then Dean winced as he saw her problem. The cue had rolled back, stopping almost at the dead center of the table. No matter how Tara positioned herself, how tightly she pressed her body into the table, she couldn’t get the right angle to sink the 8. She swung the cue around her back like before, and Dean cringed as she had the same trouble as before with getting the cue’s motions to be consistent.

“Don’t do it.” He muttered, “That shot before was one in a million.”

“Looks like you’re in trouble there, little lady.” Brian said smugly as he watched her struggle to get the right angle on the cue. But Tara grinned back.

“Not so.” She switched the cue into her right hand and took aim, “8 ball, corner pocket.” Sam and Dean’s jaws dropped to the floor as she took the shot. The cue ball kissed the 8, sending it into the pocket Tara called. It clattered against the balls already there. Tara grinned as she grabbed all the cash off the table.

“Have a nice night.” She stalked over to Sam and Dean, pocketing the cash for herself. 

“Nice job.” Dean acknowledged. Brian was watching them, so Sam took advantage of Dean’s ruse earlier and wrapped his arm around Tara. 

Tara’s breath hitched when Sam’s large hand settled comfortably at her waist. She let him pull her into his side and she kept her eyes on Brian. He was borderline glaring at the three of them, like he wanted to protest her win, but wisely decided against it, instead slinking back to his friends at the bar.

“You learned all that by playing your friends at the union?” Sam was flabbergasted by her last-second strategy. Tara’s grin only widened.

“Not quite. Before I took my friends there to play, I took a class. First semester at college. I was the only girl and no one ever wanted to play against me. Figured I’d be too easy to beat. So I took the time and got used to playing with both hands, left against right. Boy, were they surprised when I won all three extra credit tournaments.”

“So what, you were going easy on us?”

“Oh, no. I was just really out of practice. Plus I didn’t want to casually reveal that I can play both ways. Makes for a good surprise like that.” She jerked her thumb back at the table and looked up at Sam. He happened to look down at her at that same instant. Even in the scant lighting of the bar, Tara found herself lost in his ever-changing eyes. Sam found himself equally lost in her brown pools. They weren’t nearly as dark as Ruby’s, and they were sparkling with pride. The way her body molded into his, her soft curves pressing into his side, was making his mind go places it shouldn’t.

Dean coughed, tired of the heart eyes they were throwing each other. They both jerked apart and Tara’s eyes shot to the floor while Sam’s went to the ceiling. 

“So, uh,” Tara fought the embarrassment in her cheeks, “What did she want? Karen, or whatever you said her name was?” Sam cringed and realization dawned on Dean’s face.

“That was her? In Pontiac?”

“Yeah.” Sam admitted.

“Son of a–”

“Who is she?”

“Ruby. Demon bitch from before I went down under.” The name was vaguely familiar to Tara. 

“She gave us a case.” Sam cut Dean off before he could go on a rant, “We should go.”

\------

Dean didn’t say a word as they pulled out of town heading east. Sam ignored his annoyed silence, opting to call the mental hospital that Ruby had told them about instead. Tara was in the backseat, thinking about getting some rest after he was done.

“Can I get a copy of the missing person’s report? Great, ok. Thanks.” He hung up ,”Well, Anna Milton’s definitely real.”

“Don’t mean the case is real. This hospital’s a three-day drive.” Tara cringed a bit at that, but if it came with the job, she’d better get used to it.

“We’ve driven further for less, Dean.” The elder Winchester didn’t respond, he just shook his head, “You got something to say, say it.” Sam snapped.

“Oh, I’m saying it. This sucks.”

“You’re not pissed we’re going after the girl, you’re pissed Ruby threw us the tip.”

“Right, cause as far as you’re concerned, the hell-bitch is practically family! Yeah, boy, something major musta happened while I was downstairs cause I come back and now you’re BFF with a demon?”

“I told you, Dean. She helped me go after Lilith.” Sam stared out the window.

“Well thanks for the thumbnail, real vivid. You wanna fill in some detail?” Tara shrank further and further into the leather seat. They seemed to have forgotten she was there.

“Sure, Dean. Let’s trade stories. You first. How was Hell, don’t spare the details.” When Dean didn’t respond, Sam looked out the front again. Tara didn’t say anything at that point. She just laid down in the backseat and closed her eyes, trying to get to sleep before they found something else to argue about.

\------

On the afternoon of the third day, they finally reached northwestern Ohio, where the mental hospital was. In the morning, Sam and Dean had pretended that their argument had never happened. Tara was fine with that, she didn’t want to get caught in the crossfire. Dean had asked her if she wanted to be dropped back at Bobby’s, since this was much bigger than a typical hunt, but she didn’t back down.

Having the air mattress worked out well for all three of them–no one had to share a bed or sleep on the couch. They’d stop only six hours or so at a time, getting in late and leaving early. Tara’s sleep schedule had been thrown off, but at least she could catch up on hours in the car. She didn’t know how Sam and Dean did it, running on so little sleep.

As soon as they got in town, they checked into a motel and put on their Fed outfits. This time, Tara went with her navy blue business pants and a white blouse. She trailed just behind Sam and Dean as they were escorted to the room Anna had escaped from in Ward 42 of the hospital. Anna’s shrink had just finished recounting the escape as best as she understood it.

“Of course, I want to help however I can.”

“The orderly has no recollection of Anna’s escape?” Sam double-checked.

“Apparently, she knocked him unconscious. The blow caused some amnesia, he doesn’t even remember coming into her room.”

“That’s a hell of a right hook to knock out a guy that’s got eighty pounds on her.”

“We think she may have planned this and waited behind the door.” The glass window of the door was cracked.

“And how did that happen?” Tara referenced the damage.

“Our best guess is that she slammed the orderly into it.” The shrink said, but Tara wasn’t sure she bought that.

“Right, uh, you mentioned Anna’s illness was recent?” They migrated back into the hall.

“Two months ago, she was happy, well-adjusted, journalism major, lots of friends. Bright future.” Story of Tara’s life too.

“So what happened, she just flipped?”

“Well, that’s the tragedy of schizophrenia. Within weeks, Anna was overtaken by delusions.”

“What kind of delusions?”

“She thought demons were everywhere.” She handed Sam a softcover notebook.

“Hm, interesting.” Sam started flipping through the surprisingly accomplished drawings.

“It’s not uncommon for our patients to believe that monsters are real.” Tara felt her stomach twist. How many people saw something supernatural and landed here because no one believed them?

“Well that, that’s just batty.” Sam turned another page and Tara had to cough to disguise a gasp. It was the Rising of the Witnesses. He turned the next one, and it was Samhain.

“That’s Revelations.”

“Since when does the Book of Revelations have jack-o-lanterns?”

“It’s a, uh, little-known translation.”

“Uh-huh.” Tara could tell that the shrink didn’t quite believe him ,”Well, Anna’s father was a church deacon. When she became ill, her paranoia took on religious overtones. She was convinced the devil was about to rise up and end the world. I hope you find her. It’s dangerous for her to be out there alone right now.”

The three of them took their leave of the mental hospital and drove over to the Anna’s parent’s house. It was a nice place, yellow siding, red shutters, and blue steps. Colors that should have clashed, but didn’t.

Dean knocked on the door, but after a few seconds, no one answered, and Tara saw no movement through the glass of the front door.

“Maybe they’re not home.” Dean said.

“Both cars are in the driveway.” Dean reached out and tried the handle. It twisted, and the door opened. Tara’s heart started to beat faster and her palms got sweaty. True, Sam and Dean probably broke into homes all the time, but this was a first for her. Dean didn’t hesitate to open the door further and step inside.

“Mr. and Mrs. Milton?”

“We’re from the sheriff’s department.” Sam raised his voice, but no response came, “Just wanted to ask you a couple of questions. Tara shut the door behind her and glanced around. Something caught her eye on the living room floor. A dark red substance on the light wood floor.

“Sam.” She stepped into the room and Sam went to draw his weapon, but just sighed when he saw the bodies. Tara didn’t carry a gun on her, yet. She didn’t feel comfortable enough using one outside of practice. But now, seeing those two bodies on the floor with their throats slit, she was reevaluating that decision.

Sam squatted not far from the bodies and rubbed a yellow powder off the floor. He sniffed it and immediately flinched away at the strong, unpleasant scent.

“Sulfur.” He held his hand out to Tara for her to smell, “Remember that scent.” Tara nearly gagged when she sniffed his fingers.

“Means there was a demon here. Got it.”

“Yeah, they beat us here. Whatever the deal is with this Anna girl–”

“They want her.” Dean finished, “And they’re not screwing around.” He turned to Tara.

“If you want off this ride, now could be your last chance.” She forced herself to actually look at the dead bodies on the floor. It was sad, they looked so ordinary. They didn’t deserve to go out like that. And if she continued down this road with the Winchesters, she could be looking at the same fate–or worse–for herself. But then she remembered Audrey. The way that little girl had smiled at her and Dean now that her parents were back, and she knew it was worth it.

“Thanks, but no. I’m good to go.”

“Alright, so I’m  _ Girl, Interrupted _ , and I know the score of the apocalypse,” Dean picked up a stack of unopened mail, “Just busted outta the nut box, possibly using superpowers by the way. Where do I go?” Sam picked up one of the framed pictures on the mantle.

“Hey, you got those sketches from Anna’s notebook?”

“Yeah.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the pages she’d drawn on. They’d pulled them from the notebook for portability’s sake.

“Let me see them.” He came back over and Tara peeked at the picture he was holding. It was of Anna and her parents in front of a church.

“Check this out.” Sam flipped through the drawings until he found the one he was looking for and compared it with the photo. The drawing was of a very detailed stained glass window, the design of which just so happened to match one of the windows of the church.

“She was drawing the window of her church.”

“Over and over. If you were religious, scared, and had demons on your ass, where would you go to feel safe?”

“The church I grew up in.” Tara finished, “Does that actually work by the way? Demons can’t come into churches because they’re blessed or whatever?”

“Depends on the demon.” Sam said, “Hallowed ground is a deterrent for some of the lesser demons, but for the guys that are no doubt hunting Anna, it won’t be a problem.”

“Yeah, which is why we need to go.” Dean was already pocketing the mail and wiping down their fingerprints, “Come on.”

They swung by the motel quickly to change into more functional clothes. While Sam and Dean had put on flannels, Tara picked out an ordinary cotton shirt for herself.

The church was a very tall building, its bell towers extending several stories high. The structure itself was very intimidating, but the siding was a light blueish gray and the stained glass windows were primarily warm colors. Tara could understand why Anna felt safe here, especially if this was a place she’d known all her life.

It had rained a bit on the drive over, and while the precipitation had stopped, clouds still hung low in the sky as Sam and Dean had Tara pick the lock on the front door. It went fairly quickly, and soon they were climbing the stairs of one of the towers. Sam had his gun at the ready while Dean’s was at his side. Tara had finally bitten the bullet and pulled the gun she’d been practicing with out of the trunk. The weapon was heavy and foreboding in her hand now, but she felt safer having it.

At the top of the stairs was a storage room of sorts with statues, busted pews, and other seasonal decorations. Tara could smell the dust in the air, accompanied by the heavy scent that was only found in churches.

“Dean. Tara.” Sam whispered, he gestured to a smaller stained glass display on the far side of the room. Perhaps it was once used as a confessional divider? But through the warped and colored panes, Tara saw movement. Sam and Dean tucked their guns away, and Tara followed suit. The metal was cold against the skin of her back, but at least her belt held the weapon secure.

“Anna?” They stopped about halfway across the room, “We’re not gonna hurt you. We’re here to help. My name is Sam, this is my brother Dean and m–our friend Tara.”

“Sam?” A timid female voice came from behind the stained glass, “Not Sam Winchester?” The three of them exchanged glances. How did this girl know who Sam was?

“Um, yeah.” A young woman who looked to be Tara’s age emerged from behind the stained glass. Just from looking at her, Tara would never have guessed she just broke out of a mental ward. 

“And you’re Dean? The Dean?”

“Well, yeah.” Dean was more flattered than anything, “ _ The _ Dean I guess.” Sam rolled his eyes.

“It’s really you. Oh my God.” Anna smiled and came towards them, “The angels talk about you. You were in Hell, but Castiel pulled you out, and some of them think you can help save us.” Her eyes turned to Sam, “And some of them don’t like you at all.” Then she looked at Taa and cocked her head, “They don’t know you yet. At least, I’ve never heard your name before. But they talk about you two all the time lately. I feel like I know you.”

“So you talk to angels?”

“Oh, no. No way.” She glanced down at the floor, “Um, they probably don’t even know I exist. I just kind of...overhear them.”

“You overhear them?”

“Yeah, they talk and sometimes I just...hear them in my head.” She trailed off as she seemed to realize how crazy that sounded out loud.

“Like, right now?”

“Not right this second, but a lot. And I can’t shut them out, there are so many of them.”

“So they lock you up with a case of the crazies when really you’re just tuning in to angel radio?”

“Yes. Thank you.” She didn’t seem to catch the fact that Dean was subtly flirting with her.

“Anna, when did the voices start, do you remember?”

“I can tell you exactly. September 18th.”

“The day I got outta Hell.”

“First words I heard, clear as a bell. Dean Winchester is saved.” Tara felt chills run down her arms. How was that possible?

“What do you think?” She asked them. Sam scoffed.

“That’s above our pay grade.”

“Well at least now we know why the demons want you so bad.” Dean covered his uncertainties with more flirting, “When they get ahold of you, they can hear everything the other side’s cooking. You’re 1-900-ANGEL.” That got a smile out of Anna. Tara opened her mouth to say something, but Anna spoke first.

“Hey, do you know, are my parents ok? I–I didn’t go home. I was afraid.” The door clattered shut behind them.

“You got the girl?” Tara whirled, a hand on her gun, but it was only Ruby, “Good, let’s go.” Anna shrieked, backing up.

“Her face!”

“No, it’s ok. She’s here to help.”

“Don’t be so sure.”

“We have to hurry.” Ruby insisted.

“Why?”

“Because a demon’s coming, a big-timer. We can fight later, Dean.”

“Well that’s pretty convenient.” Dean pointed out, “Showing up right after we find the girl with some bigwig on your tail?”

“I didn’t bring him here, you did.”

“What?”

“He followed you from the girl’s house. We gotta go now.”

“Guys.” Sam pointed at one of the statues. It was a marble statue of Mary, standing with her arm spread. She had blood streaming from her eyes.

“What the hell?” Tara took an involuntary step back.

“It’s too late. He’s here.” Sam sprang into action, grabbing Tara’s arm with one hand and Anna’s with the other.

“Come with me.”

“Sam what are you doing?” Tara pulled her arm back.

“Tara, we don’t have time for this.” He snapped as he opened a broom closet and all but shoved Anna inside, “Stay here, protect her. If that demon gets past us you might get a cheap shot. And here.” He yanked a bracelet out of his front jacket pocket, “Put this on. It’ll ward off possession. Once this is over, we’ll get you a more permanent fix.” Tara hesitated, but Sam was right. Someone needed to stay close to Anna. She grabbed the rough brown thread and rolled it onto her wrist. Sam shut the closet door once she was inside.

“Stay in here, don’t move.” Then everything was dark save for the sliver of light coming in from under the door.

There wasn’t a lot of space in the closet. Tara found herself pressed against Anna in a way that was probably uncomfortable for her.

“Sorry about this.”

“That’s alright. You new at this or something?”

“Yeah, I suppose you could say that.”

“How’d you end up with Sam and Dean?”

“Honestly?” Tara glanced over her shoulder and looked where she imagined Anna’s eyes were, “Sheer dumb luck.” Something slammed loudly, making both of them jump.

“What was that?” Anna whispered.

“I don’t know. Just stay quiet.” Tara strained her ears, but she couldn’t hear anything. At least, until she heard one of the brothers cry out, followed by wood splintering and several thunks. Tara cocked her gun and Anna crouched down. Her heart was pounding as quick footsteps approached the door. Light blinded her as the door was thrown open, and Tara pulled the trigger. The gunshot was deafening in a space as small as the closet, but the bullet pierced nothing but empty air. Tara had been aiming at someone taller than her, but it had been Ruby who opened the door, and she was a couple inches shorter.

“Hey, watch it!” She groused at Tara, “It took ages to find a meatsuit Sam approved of.” She shoved Tara aside and reached for Anna. The redhead recoiled.

“Get away from her!” Tara stuck her arm between Ruby and Anna, but the demon flicked her hand. Tara slammed into the wall and crumpled to the floor.

“Sorry, but I can only transport one passenger and she’s more important.” Ruby grabbed Anna’s shoulder and they both vanished.

“Damn.” Tara sat dazed on the floor for a couple seconds before she heard sounds of a scuffle. She grabbed her gun off the ground and staggered over just in time to see Sam plunge their special knife into the shoulder of an older, balding man in a suit. The wound sparked and sputtered, but instead of collapsing, the demon spoke.

“You’re gonna have to try and whole lot harder than that, son.” He spun, hurling Sam towards Dean who was lying on the floor, face bloody. Sam and Tara both rushed over to him. They didn’t even have to ask her to know that Anna was gone. The demon was between them and the door, leaving the large stained glass window as the only exit. Sam and Dean shared a moment of silent communication and, while the demon was still distracted with pulling the knife out of his shoulder, ran for the window. Tara was right on their heels as they went through the glass. 

It shattered.

Tara felt shards of it cut through her shirt as she shielded her eyes. Her stomach jumped to her throat. For a moment, as she fell, it felt like she was on the Tower of Terror. But instead of slowing to a safe stop, she collided with the unforgiving ground. Pain shot up her leg as her right ankle twisted under her. Sam and Dean both rolled to their feet and ran for the car. Tara scrambled after them, her right ankle protesting every step, but finally she dove into the back seat and Dean gunned the engine. He executed a tight U-turn and zoomed off down the street, but as they passed the church, Tara looked up at the window they’d just gone through. Standing at the threshold was the demon. In his hand, he held the knife. Blood coated a good two thirds of the blade, and he smirked as he watched the Impala speed away.


	16. Fallen

By the time they got back to the motel, Tara had become aware of a rather large gash on one of her forearms where glass had sliced through the sleeve of her shirt. Sam and Dean weren’t fairing much better. Dean was favoring his left shoulder and Sam had a patch of blood growing on his upper arm. Together, they managed to stumble back to their room, where they broke out the medical kit.

“Ok.” Dean growled out, “Nothing like practical experience here.” He broke into the minibar and pulled out a bottle of red wine, “Let’s see that cut.”

“It’s not bad.” Tara collapsed on the bed closest to the door and elevated her ankle. She rolled up her sleeve while Sam pulled his flannel off. The gash on her arm wasn’t that long, maybe an inch and a half, but it was deep. As soon as Dean saw it, he pinched it as hard as he could with his good hand.

“Ow!” She replaced Dean’s fingers with her own

“Keep pressure like that. Sam!” 

“Yeah.” Sam pulled her arm so he could see the cut and took her other hand away. He’d already threaded a needle. Her eyes widened when she saw the wicked, curved thing.

“This is going to hurt.” He said bluntly, “I’m sorry.” He pierced her skin and Tara cried out.

“Here.” Dean pressed the bottle of wine into her hand, “Drink.” Tara tipped the bottle back. The dark liquid was dry, and it made her cough a bit after the first swallow, but after a few moments, the warmth spread out from her stomach and the pain went from stabbing to just throbbing.

“Thanks.” She handed the bottle back to Dean and he took another long drink.

Sam worked quickly, gently telling Tara what he was doing and why. Tara didn’t know how much of it she was actually absorbing. The pain wasn’t so bad now, but her mind was still racing. When he finished, Sam tied off the last stitch and grabbed the wine from Dean.

“Sorry about this.”

“About what?” As an answer, Sam poured the wine directly onto her cut. 

“Fucking hell!” Tears sprang to her eyes at the intense stinging.

“Best way to sterilize a wound if you don’t have a proper first aid kit.” Sam took a new needle out of their kit and threaded it.

“Your turn.” He twisted on the bed so she could reach his arm. Tara gulped when she saw how bad it looked.

“I don’t think I–”

“You can.” Sam grasped her wrist, “You’ll get the hang of it, I promise.” He guided her trembling hand to the cut, “Start just here.” He let go and cringed the moment she pierced his skin.

“Sorry!” She pulled the thread taught. Sam hissed through his teeth.

“No, it’s ok. That was good. Do the next one now.” Tara grabbed his arm just below the cut to steady herself before she made the next stitch. His skin was sticky with blood, but warm under her palm. Her fingers didn’t even wrap halfway around his bicep. She shifted her weight, pressing her thighs together. She could feel his every breath against her scalp, see the defined muscles in his torso clench every time she made a new stitch. Tara couldn’t remember the last time she was this close to someone on a bed. Although, this was slightly different, especially given that Sam’s brother was just feet away, rinsing the blood out of his mouth. And even if he wasn’t, it’s not like anything would ever happen.

“Here.” Sam passed her a towel after she was about halfway done, “Keep pressure on yours, I can finish it.” Tara passed the needle to him and scooted back to a socially acceptable distance. Sam then proceeded to stitch himself up faster than Tara had been working. She glanced at the floor.

“Sorry.” She winced as she rolled her ankle. It wasn’t broken, but it was probably sprained.

“What for?” Sam was caught off guard, “You did good.” He’d never admit that the reason he took over was because he was running low on willpower. With her that close, he’d taken in every detail of her face. The little freckle on the side of her nose, her long eyelashes, the way she bit her lip as she concentrated. Not to mention how smooth her skin had been when he stitched her up. She was very distracting, and he knew it wouldn’t be long before Dean noticed and starting giving him shit.

“Are you almost done?” Think of the devil.

“I’m going as fast as I can.”

“Good, cause you know, I got a dislocated shoulder over here.”

“Yeah.” Sam grunted, “I’ll pop it back when I’m finished.” He tied off the last stitch, “Give me that.” He reached for the nearly-empty bottle of wine and poured it over the wound. Meanwhile, Tara got up and hobbled over to the sink, claiming the ice pack Dean had been using.

“So you lost the magic knife, huh?”

“Yeah, saving your ass. Who the hell was that demon?”

“No one good.” Tara half-fell back onto the bed and laid the ice pack on her ankle, “We gotta find Anna.”

“Ruby’s got her.” Sam didn’t sound at all concerned, “I’m sure she’s ok. Alright, come on.” Sam got up slowly and stood just behind Dean.

“She was a real bitch about taking her too.” Tara said, “Threw me against the wall.”

“Yeah, that sounds like her.” Dean said as Sam put a hand on either side of his shoulder.

“On three. One–” He jerked and there was a loud crack. Dean shouted in pain, but it was done. Sam picked up Tara’s discarded towel and pressed it against his arm. Then he noticed that she had the ice pack.

“Your ankle.”

“It’s fine.” She lifted the pack away to display the dark bruise already forming, “It’s just a sprain.”

“You sure about Ruby?” Dean called from the sink, “Cause I think it’s just as likely she used us to find radio girl and then brought that demon in to kill us.”

“No, she took Anna to keep her safe.”

“Yeah?” Dean pulled another ice pack out and pressed it to his shoulder, “Well why hasn’t she called to tell us where she is?”

“Because that demon is probably watching us right now. Waiting to follow us right back to Anna again, that’s why he let us go.” Tara scoffed.

“You call this letting us go?”

“Ditto.” Dean grunted.

“Yeah, I do. Look, killing us would’ve been no problem to that thing. That’s why, for now, we just gotta lay low and wait for Ruby to contact us.”

“Yeah, how’s she gonna do that?”

“I’ve got another question.” Tara piped up, “Why’d she make a comment about getting a ‘meatsuit’–which just sounds wrong, by the way–that you approve of, Sam?” She couldn’t tell if his wince was due to her question or from the pain.

“Why do you trust her so much?” Dean kept adding to the questions.

“I told you.” Sam replied, exasperated. Dean threw the ice pack down.

“You gotta do better than that.”

“I agree with Dean on this one. She’s the one who sent us here to get hurt in the first place.”

“I’m not trying to pick a fight here, I mean, I really wanna understand. But I need to know more. I mean, if we’re getting stitches for this bitch,  _ we _ deserve to know more.” Dean sat down on the other bed, facing Sam.

“Because.” Sam sounded resigned, “She saved my life.” He took a deep breath, and started at the beginning.

“After I failed to make a deal to bring you back, some demons jumped me in my motel room. Ruby was there. At first I thought she was gonna kill me, but then she just killed the other guy. Apparently killing me was the last thing she had to do to get back on Lilith’s good side. At first I sent her away, but she didn’t stay gone.” He looked down at the floor.

“She, uh, she really pulled me out of a downward spiral. I mean, I was drinking more than you do.” He directed that bit at Dean, “She wanted to teach me how to use my psychic abilities to go after Lilith. To kill her.”

“So, what’d she teach you?”

“Well, the first thing I learned,” He scoffed, “I’m a crappy student. At first I couldn’t even pull a minor league demon already trussed up in a devil’s trap. Not without a migraine and a nosebleed, if I succeeded at all.”

“After those first failures, I was ready to give up, but then she, heh, she pretty much jumped my bones and–” Tara felt her heart sink and her face grow warm.

“Sam?” Dean spoke up for both their sakes.

“Yeah?”

“Too much information.” “Hey, I told you I was coming clean.”

“Yeah, but now I feel dirty.”

“You and me both.” Tara muttered as she took the ice pack off her ankle. She flexed her forearm, testing the stitches. She regretted the move instantly as pain radiated out from the cut.

Only when she hissed in pain did Sam seem to remember Tara was still there.

“Sorry.” He silently cursed himself for letting slip that he had slept with a demon, blowing any shot he had with her.

“It’s, um, it’s fine.” It wasn’t fine. A dull ache formed in Tara’s chest, one she hadn’t felt in a long time. Rejection. Sam was involved with someone else.

“But where does the body come into it? Getting your approval and all that.”

“Right. So when I told her to beat it the first time, I made her surrender her meatsuit unharmed. When she came back, she was possessing a coma patient. Body was being kept alive in the hospital, but the ghost was gone.”

“And that’s who she’s possessing now?” Sam nodded.

“Yeah.”

“Brain-stabbing imagery aside,” Dean redirected the conversation, “So far all you’ve told us about is a manipulative bitch who, uh, screwed you, played mind games with you, and did everything in the book to get you to go bad.”

“By the way,” Tara pointed out, “Killing her partner instead of you when she was sent to kill you doesn’t constitute saving your life.”

“Yeah, well there’s more to the story.” Sam bristled at both of them.

“Just...skip the nudity, please.” The younger Winchester rolled his eyes.

“Pretty soon after...that...I put together some signs, omens.”

“Saying what?”

“Lilith was in town. And I wanted to strike her first. Ruby tried to stop me, but I wouldn’t listen. When I got there, I found out it was a trap. Lilith was long gone, and there were two demons lying in wait. They would’ve killed me if Ruby hadn’t shown up. That’s how she saved my life. And it was the first time I successfully exorcised a demon.”

“Ruby came back for me.” He said again, “Whatever you have to say, she saved me. More than that, she got through to me. What she said to me...it’s what you would’ve said. If it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t be here.” Dean didn’t have a response for that, and neither did Tara. Fortunately, they were both spared having to come up with an awkward answer by a knock on the door.

“Housekeeping.”

“Not now.”

“Sir, I’ve got clean towels.” The maid insisted. Dean got up and answered the door.

“Couldn’t you just leave ‘em at the door?” The maid pushed her way into the room. She dumped the clean towels in Dean’s arms and yanked the room-darkening curtains closed. Then, she handed Sam a piece of paper.

“I’m at this address.” Tara had swung her legs off the side of the bed. Uneasy about a stranger walking around their room like she owned the place.

“I’m sorry, what?” Sam was just as confused.

“Go now.” She pointed to the bathroom like she was talking to a child, “Go through the bathroom window. Don’t stop, don’t take your car, don’t pass go. There are demons in the hallway and in the parking lot.”

“Ruby?” Sam finally understood what was going on. Tara was instantly on guard.

“Ok, yes. So I’m possessing this maid for a hot minute. Sue me.” She sassed him.

“What about–”

“Coma girl? Slowly rotting on the floor back at the cabin with Anna. So I’ve gotta hurry back. See you when you get there. Go!” She left the room as abruptly as she entered.   
  


\-------

The cabin was a couple miles from the motel. Not exactly a cake walk for Tara since she was on a sprained ankle, but she didn’t put up a fuss. In return, the brothers kept their walking speed at a pace she could keep up with. Every now and then, one of them would ask how she was doing, or if she needed a break, but she turned them down every time.

“We have to get there before the demons catch up.” 

Almost the whole time they were walking, Tara had one hand on the marble around her neck, spinning it between her fingers.

“Dean, when this is over,” Sam broke the silence once they entered a fairly dense wooded area, “Tara’s gonna need to get inked.” Dean stopped short.

“Shit, you’re right.” He dug around in his jacket pockets and held out a bracelet much like the one Sam had given her, “Wear this.”

“Oh, Sam already–”

“Can’t be too safe.” Tara accepted the charm and slipped it onto her other wrist. She winced as it brushed against the stitches.

Not long after that, they found the cabin. If the lights inside had been off and they hadn’t been looking, Tara would’ve missed the weathered structure entirely. The door opened before they could knock.

“Glad you could make it.” Ruby said.

“Yeah, thanks.” The interior of the cabin was sparse. There was some old furniture, but it was in good repair. Anna was sitting on a gray sofa not far from the door.

“Anna, are you ok?”

“Yeah, I think so. Ruby’s not like other demons. She saved my life.”

“Yeah, I hear she does that.” Tara scoffed a bit and rubbed the back of her head. It didn’t hurt, but Ruby didn’t need to know that.

“Could’ve fooled me.” She sat down next to Anna and pulled her jeans up. Her ankle was swollen and had taken on a lovely purple color.

“Whatever.” Ruby rolled her eyes at Tara, “I told you. I could only take one person and a girl who can hear angels is more important than the Winchesters’ newest pet.”

“Ruby–” Sam’s tone had an edge to it.

“I’m not their pet!” Tara snapped. Dean cocked his head.

“We-ell…”

“If I hear one, singular pussy joke out of you, Dean, I will kick you in the jewels.” Tara had an accusatory finger pointed at him. Dean tossed up his hands.

“Ok, ok.” Sam smirked a bit when he saw how quickly Dean backed down, but that smirk fell when Dean looked back at Ruby, “I guess I, uh...you know.” Ruby crossed her arms.

“What?”

“I guess I owe you for...Sam. And I just wanna, ahem, you know.”

“Don’t strain yourself.”

“Ok then. Is the moment over? Good, cause that was awkward.”

“Hey, Sam.” Anna leaned forward, “Do you think it’d be safe to make a quick call? Just to tell my parents I’m ok?” Tara’s heart ached for the girl, “They must be completely freaked.” Sam and Dean exchanged an uncomfortable look.

“Um…”

“What?” Tara swallowed hard and turned towards her.

“Anna, before we found you at the church, we stopped by your home. Your parents…”

“What about them?”

“The demons beat us there, and...”

“No.” Anna shook her head, tears shining in her eyes, “They’re not…”

“Anna, I’m sorry.” Sam sat down on the other side of her. That was all it took. Anna rocked forward, her face in her hands. An all-too-familiar sob of anguish issued from her lips. Tara didn’t hesitate to pull her into a hug.

“Why is this happening to me?” She said into Tara’s shirt.

“I don’t know.” Tara rubbed her hand up and down Anna’s back in an effort to comfort her. Sam reached over as well, his hand resting on her shoulder.

Suddenly, Anna gasped and sat up. Her eyes turned to the ceiling, but not focused on anything.

“They’re coming.” As she spoke, all the lights in the cabin started to flicker.

“Back room!” Dean pointed to a door Tara had previously failed to notice. Sam got Anna up and rushed her into the room, closing the door behind him as he came back out. Dean handed both of them a shotgun. Tara accepted hers with shaking hands as she got up. Her shotgun training hadn’t exactly gone well, the recoil had been much stronger than she expected. And now she was on a busted ankle. Ruby sprang forward, rummaging through the duffel bag.

“Where’s the knife?”

“Uh, about that.”

“You’re  _ kidding _ !”

“Hey, don’t look at me.” Dean shot back.

“Thanks a lot!”

“Great. Just peachy. Impeccable timing, guys, really.” Wind whistled through the gaps in the wood panelling. The front door rattled on its hinges, the movements becoming more and more violent until the door slammed open. A gust of wind blew in, blowing Tara’s hair around and making her blink. A man walked into the cabin on the heels of the wind. But it wasn’t the guy from the church. This guy was much younger, with windswept brown hair, light eyes, wearing a tan trenchcoat over a white shirt and blue tie. Behind him came another man, a couple inches taller than him with dark skin and a suit.

Ruby stepped back, and when Tara glanced at her, her eyes were completely black. The reaction seemed similar to a peacock flaring its feathers. Or maybe a skunk trying to ward someone off before it sprayed.

“Please tell me you’re here to help. We’ve been having demon issues all day.” Tara lowered her shotgun.

“Wait, you know these guys?” She hissed.

“Yeah. Castiel and Uriel, the angels.” Sam muttered back, his voice laved with disdain. Tara gasped softly and looked at them again. They looked...totally ordinary. Like humans.

“Well I can see that.” Uriel’s voice was one of the deepest Tara had ever heard, “You want to explain why you have that stain in the room?”

“We’re here for Anna.” Despite the fact that they were angels, the way Castiel said it rubbed Tara the wrong way.

“Here for her, like, here for her?”

“Stop talking.” Tara flinched a bit at Uriel’s outburst, “Give her to us.” That wasn’t a suggestion.

“Are you gonna help her?”

“No. She has to die.” He said it like he was talking about the weather.

“No way!”

“You want Anna? Why?”

“Out of the way.” Uriel stepped forward, but they held their ground.

“Woah, woah, woah. Ok, I know she’s wiretapping your angel chats or whatever but it’s no reason to gank her!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll kill her gentle.” Uriel sneered. Sam had been right. Part of Tara wished she’d never met angels.

“You’re some heartless sons of bitches, you know that?”

“As a matter of fact, we are.” Dean’s attempt at humor went right over Castiel’s head, “And?”

“And Anna’s an innocent girl.”

“She is far from innocent.”

“Says who? She’s just a normal college girl.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means she’s worse than this abomination you’ve been screwing. Now give us the girl.” Sam and Dean shared a silent moment of communication. At the last second, they both glanced at Tara. Hoping she understood the question correctly, she nodded.

“Sorry, get yourself another one. Try JDate.”

“Who’s going to stop us? You two? Your pet? Or this demon whore?” He grabbed Ruby by the collar and threw her into the wall so hard that the window shattered. 

“I’m not their pet!” Tara raised her shotgun and trained it on Uriel. But he didn’t seem to care. He pinned Ruby to the wall by her throat with one hand and went to put the other on her forehead. When Tara saw the terror in Ruby’s eyes, she squeezed the trigger. Rock salt splattered against Uriel’s back, punching holes in his suit, but the angel didn’t seem to notice. Dean went to hit him in the back, but Uriel whirled around and caught Dean by the throat. Meanwhile, Castiel advanced towards Sam.

“Cas, stop. Please.” But the angel put a pair of fingers to Sam’s forehead and he collapsed.

“Sam!” Tara fired at Castiel, ignoring the pain in her ankle and quickly putting herself between him and the door. 

“Stop.” She kept the handle behind her. Castiel raised his hand again. Tara tried to get another shot off, but the gun jammed. Right before Castiel’s fingers made contact, thunder boomed overhead. Blinding light came from nowhere, and when Tara opened her eyes and blinked away the residual spots, both Castiel and Uriel were gone.

“What just happened?” Tara demanded, but Dean, panting, had no good answer for her. He helped Ruby to her feet. Sam groaned, rubbing his eyes like he had a headache. Tara put the shotgun down and offered a hand. She couldn’t actually pull him up, but he appreciated the gesture nonetheless.

“Anna?” Dean burst into the back room. Anna was leaning heavily on the dresser, “Anna!” Tara and Ruby stopped in the doorway. On the mirror in front of her she’d painted a complex sigil of some sort. The likes of which Tara had never seen before. And it looked like she’d done it in her own blood, if the cuts on her forearms were anything to go by.

“Are–are they gone?” Dean crouched down to her level, wrapping cloth around the cuts.

“Did you kill them?”

“No. I sent them away. Far away.” Sam came up behind Tara and Ruby.

“You want to tell me how?” Dean finally noticed the sigil. 

“That just popped in my head. I don’t know I did it. I just did.”

They sat Anna back down on the sofa in the great room. Tara snapped a picture of the sigil on her phone for future reference before she joined Sam and Dean.

“So what do you think?”

“I think Anna’s getting more interesting by the second.”

“Yeah, I agree.”

“And what did they mean by ‘she’s not innocent’?”

“Whatever it is, it seems like they want her bad. And not just cause of the angel radio thing. I mean that blood spell–that’s some serious crap, man.”

“Something’s going on with her. You two see what you can find out.”

“What are you gonna do?”

“Anna may have sent the angels to the outfield, but sooner or later they’re gonna be back. We gotta get ourselves safe now.”

“Yeah. I doubt they’ll let us get the drop on them twice. But how? There’s not much we can do here.”

“No, there’s not.” Sam agreed, “Which is why we’re taking her to Bobby’s.”

\------

The trip back to Bobby’s was absolutely grueling. Tara had gotten stuck in the middle of the backseat with a quiet, grieving Anna on her left and a demon on her right. Ruby had, of course, immediately picked up on the way Tara acted around Sam. The little glances she threw his way when he laughed, the way her eyes trailed up and down his body when his back was turned, and the way her pupils dilated whenever she spoke to him. But Tara never made a move on him. Surprising, given how outspoken she was and how quickly she’d put Dean in his place about making derogatory jokes at her expense.

What concerned her, though, was the fact that Sam was acting the same way towards Tara. Not flirting, but undressing her with his eyes. If it was ever made known to them that their attraction was mutual, it could spell trouble for Lilith’s master plan–and Ruby’s mission. She just hadn’t figured out what to do about it yet.

Tara was relieved when they pulled into Singer Auto Salvage. Finally, she could get some much-needed alone time. They hadn’t stopped at a single motel on the way back, rather Sam and Dean had just kept switching off so the other could sleep. Since she’d been in the middle, sleep had been hard to come by. 

But sleep wasn’t in the cards for her yet. Anna had glued herself to Tara’s side, and when Dean put her in the panic room, Tara had been dragged along too. She flopped down on the cot and Anna curled up in the wingback chair.

“Iron walls drenched in salt. Demons can’t even touch the joint.” Dean bragged.

“Which I find racist, by the way.” Ruby was standing just beyond the devil’s trap at the entrance, her arms crossed.

“Write your congressman.” The demon rolled her eyes and pulled a few balls out of her pocket.

“Here.” Dean caught the tossed bundles easily.

“Hex bags?”

“Extra crunchy. They’ll hide us from angels, demons, all comers.”

“Thanks, Ruby.” He passed two of them to Anna and Tara.

“Don’t lose this.” He stressed to Anna. Tara on the other hand wrinkled her nose, unsure if this was a trick. After a moment’s hesitation, she pocketed the bag.

“So Anna, what’s playing on angel radio? Anything useful?”

“It’s quiet. Dead silence.” Tara raised her eyebrows.

“Good. That’s not troubling at all.”

“We’re in trouble, huh? You guys are scared?” Tara gauged Dean’s reaction carefully. His outward expression betrayed nothing, but Ruby turned her eyes to the floor.

“Nah.” Dean finally said. Before Anna could call him out on the blatant lie, Sam called from upstairs.

“Hey, Dean! Tara!” Tara got to her feet a little too fast, and Anna got up as well. 

“Just stay here, ok?” Dean said to her. Anna turned to Tara for help. But she shook her head.

“Sorry, you’re safest in here. I’ll be right back, ok?” Anna wasn’t happy, but she just sunk back into the chair.

“Keep an eye on her.” Dean instructed Ruby as they passed by. The demon didn’t respond, but she didn’t like being benched any more than Anna.

“How’s the car?” Were the first words out of Dean’s mouth when they got to the top of the stairs. Something in the engine had started rattling about an hour before they arrived.

“I fixed it, she’s fine. Where’s Bobby?” They’d had a hard time getting him on the phone on the way here, and now he was nowhere to be found.

“The Dominican.”

“What? As in the Republic?” Tara wasn’t sure she’d heard correctly.

“Yep. He said if we break anything, we buy it.”

“He’s working a job?”

“God, I hope so. Otherwise he’s a hedonist in a banana hammock and a trucker cap.”

“Now that’s seared in my brain.” Sam grimaced. Tara shuddered at the imagery as well.

“What’d you find on Anna?”

“Uh, not much.” Sam opened the tan folder in his hand, “Her parents were Rich and Amy Milton, a church deacon and a housewife.” Inside the folder was an image of Anna from a few years back. Her hair was much shorter, but her smile was the same.

“Riveting.”

“Yeah. but there is something here in the report. Turns out this latest psych episode wasn’t her first.” He pointed at a specific passage, “When she was two and a half, she’d get hysterical any time her dad got close. She was convinced that he wasn’t her real daddy.”

“Is there any evidence that she was right?”

“If not, then who was? The plumber? A little snaking the pipes?”

“God, why is everything a dirty joke to you, Dean?” But Tara had to hold back a chuckle.

“Shaddup, you’re laughing.”

“Dude, you’re confusing reality with porn again.” Tara couldn’t hold back her laugh this time, “Look, Anna didn’t say, she just kept repeating that this real father of hers was mad. Very mad–like wanted-to-kill-her mad.”

“Kinda heavy for a two-year-old.”

“Well, she saw a kid’s shrink, got better, and grew up normal.”

“Until now.” Dean finished, “So what’s she’s hiding?”

“Why don’t you just ask me to my face?” All three of them jumped at the voice that came from the left. Anna had her arms crossed and Ruby was standing half a pace behind her.

“Nice job watching her.”

“I’m watching her.” Ruby insisted.

“No, you’re right Anna.” Sam tried to placate her, “Is there anything you wanna tell us?”

“About what?”

“The angels said you were guilty of something. Why would they say that?”

“You tell me! Tell me why my life had been leveled, why my parents are dead! I don’t know.” All the anger melted into sadness, “I swear. I would give anything to know.”

“Ok. Then let’s find out.”

“How?”

\------

Dean put out a call to Pamela Barnes and he, Sam, and Tara took turns begging her to come help Anna recover her memories. At first, she was adamant that they leave her out of ‘whatever crap they’ve just stepped in’, but once Tara got her hands on the phone and revealed who she was, Pamela caved.

“You tell those boys that I ain’t doin’ this for them. I’m doin’ it for you, sweetheart. Well, and because it means screwing over some angels. Can’t wait to find out if your looks match your aura.” Tara blushed heavily, turning away from Sam and Dean.

“Ok, sounds good. See you soon.” Pamela laughed.

“Honey with the way Dean drives? Soon don’t quite cover it.”

It was late by the time Dean got on the road. He caught a couple hours of sleep, and then stuck around to get some of Tara’s pancakes for dinner. He left after dark, with the promise of being back bright and early.

Sam insisted that they take turns keeping watch, just in case the angels or the demons made a surprise appearance. Tara convinced Anna to crash on the cot in the panic room. She herself intended to sleep on the sofa in the study, but by the time she got back upstairs, Sam was out cold. So much for him taking the first watch. Tara sighed.

“I don’t sleep.” Tara jumped at Ruby’s voice. The brunette demon was leaning against the doorway to the foyer, “Well, not very much. So go ahead and get some rest.”

Tara slept under the stars that night. She took her blankets out to the bed of that red pickup truck she’d sat on with Dean way back when and curled up on it. She had no desire to sleep in one of the guest rooms upstairs, and risk hearing what Sam and Ruby would undoubtedly be getting up to. Plus, it was the first time she was actually alone in she didn’t-know-how-long and it felt great. She laid on her side, hugging Frodo to her chest with one arm and had her other hand wrapped around the marble around her neck. Sure, the bed of the pickup wasn’t as comfortable as her air mattress, but the blankets kept her warm and there was no sound accept for the occasional chattering an animals.

\-------

Sam wasn’t sure what woke him up, but he felt somewhat rested. Ruby was sitting in Bobby’s chair with her feet propped up on the desk. When he sat up, Ruby looked at an imaginary watch.

“So much for taking shifts.”

“Sorry.” He yawned, “Tara down with Anna?”

“Tara went to sleep outside last night.” She replied nonchalantly. Sam bolted to his feet.

“What? And you didn’t stop her?”

“I wasn’t aware she was a prisoner here too. I’m sure your little girlfriend is fine.” Sam flushed.

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Hey, whatever.” Roby tossed up her hands, “I couldn’t care less if she is or not. So long as you realize the dangers of having an untrained hunter around.”

“I know, I know.” Sam threw on a flannel and made for the door.

“Where are you going?”

“To go get her.” Was all he said back before he went out the front door.

“Tara!” Someone was calling for her. Tara rolled over, her back protesting after spending the night in the pickup’s bed.

“Tara!” The voice came again and she sat up.

“I’m over here!” Sam appeared at the far end of the aisle, jogging towards her, “What’s up?”

“Dean and Pamela are gonna be back soon. I just wanted to make sure you were awake.”

“Thanks.” She hopped off the truck and started pulling her blankets into a bundle. Sam swallowed thickly when he saw how her tank top had ridden up overnight. The pale skin of her hips curved inward to a narrow waist. She had a few more curves than Sam normally went for, but somehow, he couldn’t imagine her any other way.

Tara pulled her shirt back down as she scooped everything out of the bed of the truck and turned around. Sam’s eyes darted back up to a respectable height before she noticed where they’d been.

Just as Sam had predicted, the Impala pulled up not ten minutes after Tara finished her breakfast. She’d had it down in the panic room to keep Anna company.

“We’re here!” She heard Dean shout. At this point, she and Anna exited the panic room. They stood with Ruby while Dean led Pamela carefully down the stairs. Sam greeted them at the bottom.

“Pamela, hey.”

“Sam? 

“Yeah, it’s me, it’s Sam.”

“Sam?” He put his hands on her shoulders.

“Yeah.”

“Sam is that you?” Tara felt a tug on her heartstrings. Pamela wasn’t the bubbly, overly flirtatious psychic she remembered.

“I’m right here.” She put a hand on his face.

“You know how I can tell?” Her other hand went around Sam’s back and slapped his behind.

“That perky little ass of yours.” She dropped her vulnerable act completely, “You could bounce a nickel off that thing. Of course I know it’s you, Grumpy!” She looked over at the other three people in the room.

“Same way I know that’s a demon, that’s the former American shorthair Tara, and that poor girl’s Anna. And that you’ve been eyeing three of the four racks in here, including mine.” Tara choked on air and Sam stuttered, trying to deny it. But Pamela just laughed.

“Don’t sweat it, kiddo. I still got more senses that most.” She walked over to Tara, Anna, and Ruby without Dean’s guidance.

“Hey, Pamela.” Tara stepped forward and gave her a hug.

“Good to finally meet you now you’re back to normal.”

“Yeah, same here.”

“You’re one of the other ones he’s been eyeing, by the way.” Pamela whispered, “Can’t say I blame him.” Tara blushed.

“You’re very funny.”

“Hey, Anna. How are you? I’m Pamela.” Instead of giving her a hug, she took her hands.

“Hi.”

“Dean told me what’s been going on. I’m excited to help.”

“That’s nice of you.”

“Oh, well, not really.” She answered honestly, “Any chance I can dick over an angel, I’m taking it.”

“Why?”

“They stole something from me.” Pamela reached up and took off her glasses. Instead of the empty sockets Tara was expecting to see, there were a pair of white orbs. Anna took an involuntary half-step back.

“Demon-y, I know. But they’re just plastic, and good for business. Makes me look extra psychic, don’cha think?” They both laughed.

“Now, how about you tell me what your deal is?” She wrapped an arm around Anna and they walked back into the panic room.

The four of them hovered in various spots while Anna told Pamela what had been going on for the past few months, and what had happened when she was two. Tara wasn’t really listening though, she was stuck inside her own head. Had Sam really been eyeing her up? If anyone but Pamela had said that, she would’ve thought they were yanking her chain, but Sam’s embarrassed reaction had seemed genuine. Ruby had to be the third one, though. No way it was Anna, not with Dean flirting with her. Tara got the sense that, for the most part, Sam and Dean didn’t try to pursue the same person at once. Did that mean Sam was interested in her? Surely not, if he was involved with Ruby.

Maybe Pamela was mistaken about the reason he’d been looking at her. After all, they were just friends, right? At least, she considered Dean a friend. And Sam too. Just a friend she happened to think was good looking. That had to be it.

“Ok.” Pamela’s raised voice brought Tara out of her head, “I’m going to try putting Anna into a meditative trance to recover her memories.”

She had Anna lay down on the cot and closed her eyes. 

“Nice and relaxed. Now, I’m going to count down from five to zero. When we’re at zero, you’ll be in a deep state of hypnosis. As I count down, just go deeper and deeper, ok? Five...four...three...two...one...zero. Deep sleep.” Her hand hovered over Anna’s closed eyes for a moment, “Every muscle calm and relaxed. Can you hear me?”

“I can hear you.” Anna’s response was even softer than normal.

“Now Anna, tell me. How can you hear the angels? How did you work that spell?”

“I don’t know. I just did.” Pamela tried a different approach.

“Your father, what’s his name?”

“Rich Milton.”

“All right. But I want you to look further back. When you were very young, just a couple of years old.” Tara didn’t miss the way Sam looked at Ruby, the only one of them who was standing outside the panic room.”

“I don’t want to.” Anna shifted on the bed a bit.

“It’ll be ok. Anna, just one look–that’s all we need.”

“No.”

“What’s your dad’s name? Your real dad. Why is he angry at you?” Anna started shaking her head and back forth, her breath starting to come in pants.

“No. No. No!” She bolted upright and all the lights in the panic room flickered wildly.

“Calm down.”

“He’s gonna kill me!” The door slammed shut.

“Anna, you’re safe.”

“No!” Sparks flew and all the glass in the room shattered. Tara shielded herself with her arms as best she could.

“Calm down.”

“He’s gonna kill me!”

“Anna?” Dean approached her.

“Dean, don’t!” Pamela warned, but it was too late. Anna struck out, sending him flying into the opposite wall.

“Wake in one, two, three, four, five.” When Pamela reached five, Anna stopped screaming and squirming.

“Anna?” Her eyes opened, “Are you alright?” Pamela backed up so Anna had room to sit up.

“Thank you, Pamela. That helped a lot.” Something was different about Anna, in the way she held herself, even in the way she spoke. She was more confident, “I remember now.”

“Remember what?”

“Who I am.”

“I’ll bite. Who are you?”

“I’m an angel.” Pamela’s jaw clenched and she scooted her chair back, exiting the panic room without another word.


	17. Restored

They migrated back upstairs. Pamela leaned against Bobby’s desk with Sam and Dean flanking her. Tara stood against one of the bookcases and Ruby was pacing in the doorway to the kitchen. They were all facing Anna, who stood in the middle of the room.

“Don’t be afraid.” Were the first words out of her mouth, “I’m not like the others.”

“I don’t find that very reassuring.”

“Neither do I.” Pamela agreed. But Anna ignored them.

“So...Castiel, Uriel, they’re the ones that came for me?”

“You know them?” Sam asked.

“We were kinda in the same foxhole.”

“So, what they’re like your bosses or something?” Anna flushed, but maintained eye contact with Dean.

“Try the other way around.”

“Look at you.” 

“But now they wanna kill you?”

“Orders are orders. I’m sure I have a death sentence on my head.”

“Castiel  _ did _ say they were heartless.” Tara remarked.

“Why the death sentence though?”

“I disobeyed.” She crossed her arms, “Which, for us, is about the worst thing you can do. I fell.”

“Meaning?”

“She fell to Earth. Became human.”

“Wait a minute.” Sam interjected, “I don’t understand. So angels can just become human?”

“It kinda hurt. Try cutting your kidney out with a butter knife. That’d kinda hurt. I ripped out my grace.”

“Come again?”

“My grace. It’s...energy. I hacked it out and fell. My mother, Amy, couldn’t get pregnant. She always called me her little miracle. She had no idea how right she was.”

“So you just forgot that you were God’s little power ranger?”

“The older I got, the longer I was human, yeah.”

“It probably didn’t help that you had shrinks on your ass trying to ‘normalize’ you.” Anna chuckled.

“Definitely not.”

“I don’t think you all appreciate how completely screwed we are.” Ruby burst out.

“Ruby’s right. Heaven wants me dead.”

“And Hell just...wants her. A flesh-and-blood angel that you can question, torture; that bleeds. Sister, you’re the Stanley Cup. And sooner or later, Heaven or Hell, they’re gonna find you.”

“I know. And that’s why I’m gonna get it back.”

“Get what back?” Tara asked.

“My grace.”

“You can do that?”

“If I can find it.”

“So what, you’re just gonna take some divine bong hit and shazam, you’re Roma Downey?”

“Something like that.”

“Alright! I like this plan. So where’s this grace of yours?”

“Lost track. I was falling about ten thousand miles per hour at the time.”

“Wait. You mean falling, like, literally?”

“Yes.” 

“Like, the way a human eye can see? Like a comet maybe, or a meteor?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because maybe we can find records of comets sighted around the time you were conceived, see if we can get an better idea as to where your grace landed.”

“Sounds like a great plan.” Pamela said, “But I’m out. This just got too rich for my blood.”

“Alright.” Dean didn’t question her decision for a second, “I’ll take you home.” Tara rolled her eyes.

“And consequently get out of all the research we’ve got ahead of us.”

“Basically, yeah.” Dean smirked.

\------

The four of them were researching until well after dark, looking both online and in books for any mention of comets during the period that Anna may have been conceived. Tara’s eyes were starting to burn and her brain felt like it was about to liquefy and come out her ears when Anna got up and left the house without so much as a word. 

When she didn’t come back after five minutes or so, Tara shut her laptop and got up too.

“I’m gonna go...find her. Yeah.” Sam made a noise of acknowledgement, but didn’t look up from the book he was reading. He thought he’d found something, finally.

The night air was cold against Tara’s face. A light breeze penetrated her long-sleeved shirt, making her wish she’d grabbed a jacket. She found Anna over by the garage, leaning against the hood of a car looking up at the stars.

“Hey.” Tara announced herself gently. Anna didn’t look away from the sky.

“Hey.” She scooted so Tara could lean against the car too.

“I know it’s been a lot, these past few days. How are you doing?”

“It’s a lot.” She agreed, “And part of me really wants to freak out.”

“But?”

“But, I know that wouldn’t help anyone right now. And I dunno, but ever since Pamela helped me remember who I am, it’s been easier. To push the bad feelings away.”

“So, what? You tell your emotions to get in a box and they do? That must be nice.” Tara stubbed the toe of her sneaker into the ground, making a little path in the dust.

“I wouldn’t put it like that.” Anna looked at Tara for the first time during the conversation, “More like I...put them on a timer. Tell them to go away for a little bit, and I just keep extending that timer. But it isn’t like that with everything. And even with how bad the had emotions are, the good ones make it worth it.” She leaned closer.

Tara’s breath caught in her throat and her eyes flicked down to Anna’s lips. Was she going to kiss her? She pulled back just a hair. The move was almost imperceptible, but Anna saw it clear as day and stumbled backwards, blushing.

“I’m so sorry. I–I read you wrong and–”

“Actually, you didn’t.” Anna’s eyes snapped back up to hers.

“Really?”

“Yeah. But for me, it’s...complicated right now.” She heard the familiar rumble of the Impala approaching, “And besides, I’m pretty sure Dean would be pretty disappointed if you and I became a thing.”

“Wh–oh.” She looked to where the hunter was emerging from the classic car. Tara smirked.

“I’ll be inside.”

Tara almost ran smack into Sam when he opened the front door right as she was reaching for the handle.

“Oh, geez! Sorry!”

“It’s fine.” Tara was desperately looking for somewhere to look at aside from the broad chest in front of her. She settled on his eyes, which looked brown in the low light coming from the study.

“Uh, what’s up?” She stuttered lamely after a few seconds too long.

“I think I got something. Where’s Anna?”

“With Dean.”

“Great. Grab your bag and meet us at the car.”

“Great.” She stepped to her right to let Sam pass right as he stepped to his left to let her by. Then they both stepped again.

“Uh–”

“Sorry–”

“Look, why don’t–” They kept trying to let the other by first.

“Here.” Sam finally stopped moving and stood out of her way, “You go.”

“Thanks.” Tara was sure her face was beet red when she walked by him. As soon as she entered the study, the grin on Ruby’s face told her the demon had seen the whole exchange. It only took a couple minutes to double check that she had everything she needed, but it felt much longer. Ruby didn’t even attempt to make conversation, her eyes following the brunette around like she knew a big secret plus a joke at Tara’s expense. 

At last, Tara swung her backpack over her shoulder and headed back to the Impala with Ruby right behind her. Sam had spread a bunch of papers out on the hood and was using a flashlight to illuminate a giant Atlas.

“Union, Kentucky.” He pointed to a town circled in red, “Found some accounts of a local miracle.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. In ‘85, there was an empty field outside of town. Six months later, there was a full-grown oak. They sat it looks a century old at least.” 

“Anna? What do you think?”

“The grace. Where is hit, it could’ve done something like that, easy.”

“So grace ground zero, it’s not destruction, it’s–”

“Pure creation.” Anna finished.

\------

They left right away, resuming the same situation they’d had on the way to Bobby’s. Sam and Dean in the front, and Tara in the backseat with Anna on her right and Ruby on her left. For once, Dean didn’t immediately put in one of his cassette tapes, leaving nothing but the sounds of the engine and the road. That is, until Dean snickered to himself.

“What?” Ruby snapped.

“Nothing, it’s just...an angel and a demon riding in the backseat. It’s like the setup to a bad joke. Or a penthouse forum letter.”

“Dude.” Sam said, “Reality. Porn.”

“You call this reality?” He glanced in the rearview mirror again, “You know, if you two scrunched real close to Hershey, you’d look like the angel and the demon on her shoulders. You know, like in cartoons–”

“Dean.” There was an annoyed edge to Tara’s voice. It was already uncomfortable enough to have to sit this close to Sam’s lover. The last thing she needed was to have Dean make it more awkward for her.

It was mid morning by the time the Impala pulled up by the empty field outside Union, Kentucky. Tara had finally cracked the code on falling asleep in the middle seat: using her jacket as a headrest/pillow. As a result, when Dean shut the engine off, she woke with a start. Ruby chuckled a bit as she got out. Tara followed her, about to make a smart remark, but then she sw the tree.

With a thick trunk and too many long, gracefully twisted branches to count, it was by far the largest oak–if not the largest tree–Tara had ever seen. The sun was behind it, its light poking through the leaves.

“It’s beautiful.” Dean was right. And more than that, the entire scene looked peaceful. Almost too picturesque to be real.”

“It’s where the grace touched down.” Anna confirmed, “I can feel it.”

“You ready to do this?”

“Not really.” But she stepped forward anyway.

The grass was almost as high as Tara’s waist. The golden heads, still damp with dew, brushed against her forearms. The height went down around the tree, where it didn’t get as much sun, displaying the thick roots. Sam, Dean, Ruby, and Tara all stopped shortly after the grass height dropped, but Anna went right up to the tree itself.

“Anna?” Sam called to her, “What are we even looking for?” He had a point too. Up until now, Tara hadn’t even thought about what angelic grace would look like. But Anna didn’t answer. She just reached out, putting her palm flat against the trunk. 

“It doesn’t matter.” She said at last, “It’s not here, not anymore. Someone took it.” Sam and Dean shared a look. Whoever knew enough to take her grace certainly wasn’t someone on their side.

\------

They stopped in Union for food before beginning the trek back. As they were heading back to where they parked the Impala, Dean abruptly changed directions and crossed the street.

“Dean? Where are we going?” Tara asked.

“To get you inked up.” Sweat broke out on her palms.

“I thought you said we’d do that once this was over? I still have both charms you guys gave me.” She shook her wrists for good measure.

“Trust me.” Ruby shook her head, “A demon as powerful as Alastair, you’re gonna need the tattoo. You’re lucky he didn’t try to ride your pretty ass already.” Well, she’d started out nice. 

Dean led them into a little parlor on the corner with several neon signs in the windows for tattoos and piercings. Inside, one artist was in the middle of giving a tall blonde guy a full sleeve tattoo. The other one, a skinny guy with shaggy dark hair, a lip piercing, and letters inked into his knuckles, was cleaning his equipment.

“Good afternoon, my name’s Gavin. How can I help you?” He stopped what he was doing as soon as the bell over the door jingled.

“Our friend Hershey here is looking to get a tattoo.” Dean put a hand on her shoulder and pulled her in front of him.

“What were you thinking about getting?” Gavin asked her. His breath reeked of cigarette smoke, and she tried not to back away.

“W-well, uhh…” She looked back at the Winchesters for help.

“Something like this.” Sam stepped forward and pulled his collar down to display his own tattoo. Tara felt her mouth go dry at the sight of his bare skin.

_ God, keep it together, Tara! _

“Like that?” Gavin confirmed with her. Tara nodded, “Ok, I should be able to make a stencil off that.” He waved Sam over to the chair.

“And one more!” The words were out of Tara’s mouth before she could think them through completely, but the artist gave her his full attention.

“What are you thinking?”

“Well, it’s...kind of hard to describe.” She felt all her blood rushing to her cheeks, and Dean’s eyes boring into her shoulderblades. 

“Ok, then why don’t you come into the back with me. I’ve got some basic stencils there you can use to flesh out the idea.”

“Sure.” She glanced back at the others. Anna was looking at the floor, clearly uncomfortable being in an establishment like this, Ruby’s eyes were narrowed in her direction, and Dean looked like he wanted to protest. But he didn’t, and Tara followed Gavin through a door camouflaged very well into the vibrant, colorful walls.

The back room wasn’t as decorative as the main room. The walls were just a plain beige, and there were stencils lying all over the place, but Tara didn’t care about that. She tried her best to explain to the artist what she had in mind, and using a couple basic stencils, they were able to make one for her.

“This is your idea, right?” He checked before they went back out, “Those guys aren’t pressuring you into this? Because if they are, we’ve got a back door out of here and the cops on speed dial.” The look in his eyes was totally honest and caring, and Tara suddenly realized that she’d misjudged Gavin based on his piercing and cigarette breath. 

“Yeah. Yeah, this is my idea.” Ok, so that wasn’t  _ quite _ true, but how was she supposed to explain that she needed the first tattoo to avoid being possessed by a demon?

“And you understand that a tattoo is a serious commitment, yes? Once you get it, you have to take care of it until it heals, and removal is both expensive and painful.”

“I’m know.”

“Alright. I just needed to make sure. Are you ready?” He held up the stencil. Tara nodded.

“As I’ll ever be.”

Tara wasn’t sure which tattoo was more painful. The anti possession one was larger, but she’d gotten it where the Winchesters had theirs; on the upper left part of her chest. She’d gotten the other one on the inside of her right wrist. Gavin had warned her that that location especially would hurt pretty bad, but she’d gone for it anyway. It had taken a lot less time and ink, but it hurt like a bitch. The whole time, Dean had been bugging her about seeing the second one, but she wouldn’t let any of them look. For now, it was too personal. So she had Gavin bandage it with a non-transparent material, unlike the cover that went on her anti possession one.

When it was finally over, Dean paid for the tattoos in cash, they piled back into the Impala and started the trek back to Bobby’s.

\------

They didn’t make it very far, both brothers were too tired to drive and Dean refused to let anyone else drive his Baby. So they made for a hunter’s cabin outside Evansville, Indiana. ‘Cabin’ was too nice of a word for it. It was just an old barn, with barely any furniture that looked like it could hold more than a few pounds. It was still evening when they got there, but there was no hint of dusk left in the sky, given that it was already the middle of November. Once everything had been moved inside, Sam and Dean started debating what their next move should be.

“Well, we still got the hex bags. I say we head back to the panic room.”

“What, forever?” Ruby wasn’t impressed with the idea.

“I’m just thinking out loud!” Dean snapped.

“Oh, you call that thinking?”

“Hey!” Sam came in with the rest of the bags, “Hey, hey, hey. Stop it.”

“Anna’s grace is gone, you understand? She can’t angel up; she can’t protect us. We can’t fight Heaven  _ and _ Hell. One side, maybe, but not both, not at once.”

“Ok, so what then?” Tara asked, “We can’t hide forever, we can’t fight them. What’s our third option?”

“Um, guys?” Anna drew their attention. She was leaning against the table, staring off into space, “The angels are talking again.”

“What are they saying?”

“It’s weird, like a recording...a loop.” Well that wasn’t unsettling at all, “It says ‘Dean Winchester gives us Anna by midnight, or…”

“Or what?” Dean prompted.

“Or we hurl him back to damnation’.” Dean’s eyes almost bugged out of his head.

“Wait, hold on.” Tara looked at him, “Can they do that? Like, actually?”

“Yeah. Yeah, they can. Cas threatened me with it awhile back. In a dream, but still.”

“Great.”

“Anna, do you know of any weapon that works on an angel?”

“To what? To kill them?” Sam shrugged, not even putting in the effort to look guilty about his suggestion. 

“Nothing we could get to, not right now.”

“Ok, wait. Wait. I saw we call Bobby, we get him back from hedonism–”

“Dean, what’s he gonna tell us that we don’t already know?”

“I dunno, but we gotta think of something!” He stormed out of the cabin, taking a duffel of lore books with him. Anna watched him go helplessly.

“Should I try to…?”

“No.” Sam shook his head, “Let him stew. If he’s not back in an hour, then you can go check on him.”

“He was right about one thing though.” Tara said.

“What’s that?”

“We need to come up with a plan.”

Tara was exhausted. The poor sleep the past few days plus the getting her first two tattoos back to back had her yawning before Anna went to check on Dean. Eventually, Ruby convinced her to blow up her air mattress and at least lay down. A scheme, on her part, to try and get her out of the way so she convince Sam he needed his powers to pull Alastair. She waited, patiently, for Tara’s breathing to even out before she brought it up.

“I already told you. No. But I think I have another idea.”

“Yeah? And what would that be? I told you before, it’s Godzilla and Mothra.”

“Exactly. That’s what gave me the idea. But I’ll need your help.” Ruby crossed her arms. She didn’t like this one bit, but if it got Sam to trust her more, then she was game.

“I’m listening.”

\------

Tara gasped awake, like she was waking from a nightmare. But she couldn’t remember what it was about. She blinked, looking around. The barn was dark, the only light coming from the moonlight that filtered between the wooden panels of the wall. There was no sign of Sam, Ruby, or anyone else.

“Hello?” She sat up, wincing as her loose shirt brushed against her tattoo coverings, “Guys?”

“Tara Jones.” She recognized the deep voice right away, her eyes going straight to the figure standing in the middle of the barn, “I thought it was time we talked.” She stood up, putting the mattress between herself and Uriel.

“Am I dreaming?”

“Unfortunately. But it will have to suffice.”

“What do you want?”

“This conflict does not concern you. For the moment, you have not committed any crimes against Heaven. This is your chance to walk away from certain death.”

“Oh, yeah? In exchange for what?”

“Tell us where you are. Give us Anna, and your life will be spared.”

“But you’ll kill her! And what’ll happen to Sam and Dean? And Ruby?” She added after a moment’s thought.

“That demon whore will be smote on sight on principle. As for the Winchesters, if they continue to be inconvenient, they’re bound for Hell. You need not share that fate, you don’t owe them anything. Just give us the girl.”

“Yeah, no. I don’t think so. See, you’re wrong about something. I  _ do _ owe Sam and Dean. They helped me get turned back into a human and they’ve promised to help me find the witch that turned me. I don’t hear any such offers coming out of your mouth.” Uriel scoffed.

“Protection against a puny monkey will be of no consequence. And I’ll sweeten the pot. You cooperate with us now, and Dylan Holt will find himself alive once more.” All the air left Tara’s lungs. This was it. This was what she’d been waiting for. Ever since she learned that angels and demons and everything in between was real, this had been her endgame. Find a way to bring Dylan back. And yeah, ok, the rest of her old life was pretty much gone, her academics were screwed to hell, and she had no savings, but if she had Dylan back, then she’d find a way to fix everything else. She could get back on track somehow, still live a normal life.

But then Tara thought about everyone she and the Winchesters had saved in the past couple weeks. The smile on little Audrey’s face when her parents finally came back from Bali. The closure they’d given a widow when they put her husband to rest by melting his ring. Nothing, short of being with Dylan and getting her full ride, had made her feel that good about herself and her actions. She thought about Anna, how they’d almost kissed, and how disappointed Anna would probably be if Tara proved to be the weak link. She thought about Sam and Dean and Bobby, who had taken her under their wing, taught her how to be a hunter. They’d warned her that difficult decisions like this came with the job description, and that if a deal sounded too good to be true, it probably was. Tara wasn’t sure how that would hold up when it came to deal from angels, but this guy was offering to give her everything she was searching for. Only a fool would turn it down. 

Or someone hell-bent on doing the right thing.

“No deal.” She bit out. Uriel’s pleasant demeanor vanished.

“You stupid ape. Do you have any idea what you’re passing up?”

“Yeah, I do. But I also know Dylan. If he ever learned that I condemned an innocent girl to die to bring him back, he would never look at me again. So no. Now get out of my head.”

“I will make sure you live to regret your poor decision.” Uriel vanished.

\------

Tara gasped, sitting up so fast she got dizzy. Sunlight came in through the gaps of the wood panels, searing her eyes as she looked around frantically for Uriel. But thankfully, he was nowhere to be seen. Instead, her dramatic waking up had drawn the attention of Sam, Dean, and Anna.

“Oh my God.” She clutched her chest when she saw them, trying to calm her racing heart. 

“Hey, woah.” Sam knelt next to the mattress, “What is it?”

“Uriel, he–he came to me in a dream.”

“Hey, join the club.” Dean was sitting on some crates drinking out of a silver flask, “He threaten you too?”

“No, he...he offered me a deal.”

The three of them listened carefully while she explained what Uriel had offered to do. A part of her didn’t want to reveal the bit about Dylan to them, but this wasn’t the time to keep secrets. Although, she only referred to him as ‘her friend’.

“So he just offered to pretty much throw you back into your old life? No heavenly wrath, no nothing?” Dean said, incredulous.

“Yeah.”

“But you didn’t take it.”

“No. And he dropped the act as soon as I told him so.”

“Why?” Sam asked, “The deal was probably genuine, without the ten year contract attached.”

“I know. And don’t get me wrong, I still wanna find a way to get him back.” She looked at Anna, who kept glazing outside anxiously. Was she watching Ruby? “But not at the cost of your life.” Anna smiled softly.

“Thanks.”

“So tell me you guys came up with a plan to get us out of this.”

“We’ve got something.” Sam said, “But it’s pretty dumb.”

“Well, dumb is better than sitting and waiting for them to show up.”

“Actually,” Dean corrected, “That’s exactly what we’re doing.”

Ten minutes of waiting turned into twenty, which turned into thirty, and there was still no sign of anyone. That wasn’t good by any standpoint, but the more time passed, the more Sam worried about Ruby.

“How much longer do we wait?” Dean finally broke the silence.

“I don’t know, man.” Sam stopped pacing, “Where’s Ruby?”

“Hey, she’s your hell buddy.” He took another long gulp from his flask.

“Little early for that, isn’t it?” Anna finally peeled herself away from the barn wall.

“It’s 2am somewhere.”

“You ok?”

“Yeah, of course.” He brushed off her concern. Before Anna could call him out, the doors of the barn blew open. Castiel and Uriel strode in, and the doors swung closed just as fast. Tara and Dean were on their feet in an instant, flanking Anna while Sam stood in front of her.

“Hello, Anna. It’s good to see you.”

“How?” Sam feigned disbelief, “How did you find us?” When no one fessed up to burning their hex bag, they glanced at each other. Dean looked down at the floor, ashamed.

“Dean?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why?” Dean looked at Anna, and she understood.

“Because they gave him a choice. They either kill me, or kill you, Sam. I know how their minds work.” Tara’s heart sank. She’d just been the first attempt. Uriel had had a backup plan, because of course he did.

Anna leaned over, stood on her tip-toes, and kissed Dean. 

“You did the best you could. I forgive you.” She stepped out from behind Sam and looked both angels in the eye.

“Ok, no more tricks. No more running. I’m ready.”

“I’m sorry.” Castiel said.

“No, you’re not. Not really. You don’t know the feeling.”

“Still, we have a history. It’s just–”

“Orders are orders.” She cut him off, “I know. Just make it quick.” Tara couldn’t watch anymore. She closed her eyes.

“Don’t you touch a hair on that poor girl’s head.” The nasally voice came from behind them. Tara whirled around. Not only was the demon from the church–Alastair, according to Ruby–standing here, but so were two other big, muscular guys. They had Ruby between them, holding her up by her arms. Ruby looked terrible, her pale skin ashen, and blood seeping through her shirt. If the demons hadn’t been holding her up, Tara doubted she’d remain standing for long. 

“How dare you come in this room,” Uriel stepped forward. He seemed to forget that Tara, Sam, Dean, and Anna were there. The four of them quickly moved to the side, “You pussing sore.” The demons holding Ruby threw her to the ground and she collapsed, just as Tara predicted. She scrambled backwards to the other side of the barn.

“Name-calling? That hurt my feelings. You sanctimonious, fanatical prick.”

“Turn around and walk away now.” Castiel tried to dial everything down.

“Sure. Just give us the girl. We’ll make sure she gets punished good and proper.”

“You know who we are and what we will do.” Castiel moved to stand with Uriel, “I won’t say it again. Leave now, or we lay you to waste.”

“I think I’ll take my chances.” The next moments of silence that followed were tense, almost electric, as the angels and the demons sized each other up.

One of the demon lackeys made the first move, and Uriel was quick to match him. While they fought, Castiel knocked the other lackey aside and went straight for Alastair, delivering a swift uppercut. Then, he placed a hand on his forehead, like Uriel had tried to do to Ruby. But nothing happened.

“Sorry, kiddo.” Alastair gloated, “Why don’t you go run to your daddy?” He knocked Castiel to the floor. 

Meanwhile, Uriel had pinned the demon he’d been fighting against one of the pillars. He placed a hand on his forehead, and this time, the demon screamed. Light emanated from his eyes and mouth until he collapsed, his eyes burnt out like Pamela’s.

“Potestas inferna, me confirma.” Alastair was chanting over Castiel. The trenchcoated angel was writhing on the floor like he was in pain. Alastair repeated the incantation.

“What’s he saying?”

“Don’t know, don’t care.” Dean picked up a crowbar and swung hard, knocking Alastair off Castiel. But to Tara’s shock, he stayed on his feet.

“Dean, Dean, Dean. I am  _ so  _ disappointed.” Did they know each other? “You had such promise!” Tara looked at Sam, but he didn’t seem to know what the demon was going on about either. He just looked scared. And then she was choking. Alastair had his hand outstretched, and all three of them were gasping for oxygen. Tara felt like there was a vice around her windpipe, steadily closing. Across the barn, she was vaguely aware of Anna rushing over to Uriel. She grabbed something from around his neck, a necklace with a light blue pendant. 

“No!” But it was too late. Anna smashed it on the barn floor, and it became blue smoke. It looked much like demon smoke, actually. Was it her grace? It had to be. It lifted itself up off the floor and went right down Anna’s throat. 

Tara’s vision was swimming with dark spots as Anna collapsed, a bright light building from inside her. 

“Shut your eyes. Shut your eyes!” The light grew brighter and brighter, even after Tara squeezed her eyes closed, and fought to raise her arm for good measure. 

“Shut your eyes!” She heard Anna scream. The light faded for a half-second, and then came back twice as strong. It was like lightning struck where Anna was standing.

When the light faded and Tara opened her eyes, she had to blink several times before the room came into focus. Anna was gone, and there was a pile of ash around where Alastair had been standing, along with the demon-killing knife. Castiel’s and Uriel’s eyes were glued to the spot Anna had been moments before, wearing expressions of awe and anger respectively. In the corner, Tara spotted Ruby, huddled against some bales of hay.

Tara stood on shaking legs. Uriel looked like he was ready to kill them. Sam and Dean got up too, the latter claiming the demon knife off the floor. Castiel stood in front of them, almost too close to Dean to be considered normal.

“Well what are you guys waiting for?” Dean taunted, “Go get Anna. Unless, of course, you’re scared.”

“This isn’t over.” Uriel growled, but Castiel stopped him before he reached Dean.

“Oh, it looks over to me, junkless.” Dean looked back at Castiel, right before both angels vanished into thin air. Tara finally let herself breathe easily, and both Winchesters relaxed visibly. Ruby staggered over to them, looking even more pale than before.

“You ok?”

“Not so much.” Ruby admitted.

“What took you so long to get here?”

“Sorry I’m late with the demon delivery, I was only being tortured.” Tara smirked a bit.

“Well at least your attitude survived the ordeal.” That actually got a legitimate smile out of the demon.

“You got any shirts I can borrow?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Tara went over to her backpack.

“Well, I gotta hand it to ya, Sammy. Bringing them all together, all at once–angels and demons–it was a damn good plan.”

“Yeah, well, when you got Godzilla and Mothra on your ass, best to get out of their way and let them fight.”

“No need to rub it in.” Tara pulled a black shirt out of her bag and tossed it to Ruby.

“So I guess she’s some big-time angel now, huh? She must be happy, wherever she is.” Tara remembered her conversation with Anna the night before last. From the look on Dean’s face, he’d had a similar one.

“I doubt it.”

\------

They said goodbye to Ruby not long after she stitched up the cuts on her abdomen and changed into Tara’s shirt. Sam also used that time to take the stitches out of his and Tara’s arms. Then, they were back on the road, looking for cases. 

When Sam went into the Gas N Sip to get food, Dean leaned over the car door. Tara had opened it and was letting her legs dangle freely.

“You’re a strong person.” 

“Huh?”

“What you gave up, getting Dylan back. Sam and Anna don’t know who he was to you, but I do.” Tara’s tattooed arm went to the marble around her neck.

“He give that to you?” Dean gestured to the white and orange ball of glass.

“No, um, he collected marbles. They were kind of his thing, I guess. He always kept them in bowls, jars, whatever he could. I’m pretty sure he had a few rolling around at the bottom of his backpack.” She had a faraway look in her eyes and a gentle smile on her face, but it fell quickly, “At the, um, at the service, his family let everyone take a marble. Y’know, to remember him by. Orange was his favorite color, so I…” She rolled it between her fingers, “I had a local place make it into a necklace for me, so I didn’t have to worry about losing it out of a pocket.” She sniffed, wiping away a stray tear.

“Well, you’re a stronger person than I am. Me or Sam. You got offered a free resurrection card and you turned it down. We’ve both made, or in Sam’s case tried to make, a demon deal to resurrect each other. That’s actually how I ended up in Hell.”

“Wait, Sam has died too?” Dean nodded.

“Yeah. Awhile back now, but since we cause demons so much grief, I only got one year instead of the usual ten.”

“Wow.” Tara wasn’t quite sure what to say to that. But she didn’t have to come up with anything. Sam came back with their food in tow. Dean stowed his feelings and the gas pump, acting like he hadn’t just had a heart-to-heart with Tara. She followed his lead, plastering a smile on her face and accepting her fried chicken sandwich from Sam.

Dean pulled over a couple miles past the Gas N Sip, in a grassy area just past a small copse of trees and pulled three beers out of the cooler. Sam sat on the front while Dean and Tara were on the side.

“Can’t believe we made it out of there.” Dean said around a mouthful of burger. 

“Again.” Sam added. Dean clinked his beer bottle against Sam’s, then did the same with Tara’s. Sam leaned behind Dean, reaching his beer towards Tara too. By some miracle, she managed to meet his eyes and not blush when their bottles touched.

“You’re a hunter now, Tara.” He said to her.

“I know. Got a tattoo, my first scar, and everything.” Sam chuckled a bit at her answer and they all drank. The beer was cold, and Tara felt herself wincing less as it went down.

“I know you heard him.” Dean broke the silence first.

“Who?” Sam played dumb.

“Alastair. What he said about how I ‘had promise’.”

“I heard him.”

“You’re not curious?”

“Dean, I’m damn curious. But you’re not talking about Hell and I’m not pushing.” Dean took a long drink, trying to find the best way to say it. Sam and Tara stayed quiet, giving him the time he needed.

“It wasn’t four months, you know.”

“What?” Sam had been planning on just letting Dean go for it, but he needed clarification on this one. From the look on Tara’s face, she did too.

“It was four months up here, but down there…I don’t know, time’s different. It was more like forty  _ years _ .” Tara bit her lip, trying to contain her gasp.

“Oh my God.” Sam murmured.

“They, uh...they sliced, and carved, and tore at me in ways that you…” He trailed off, trying to make the ball in his throat shrink, “Until there was nothing left. And then suddenly, I would be whole again, like magic, just so they could start in all over. And Alastair, at the end of every day, every one, he would come over, and he would make me an offer: to take me off the rack if I put souls on...if I started the torturing. And every day I told him to stick it where the sun shines.” Tara looked at the ground, swallowing hard. Dean thought  _ she _ was a strong person?

“For thirty years, I told him.” Tara looked up, “But then I couldn’t do it anymore, Sammy. I couldn’t. And I got off that rack, God help me, I got right off it, and I started ripping them apart.” Dean’s voice broke. The muscles at the corners of his lips were twitching as he tried to keep it together.

“I lost count of how many souls. The...the things I did to them…” Sam couldn’t keep silent, clenching his jaw, any longer.

“Dean,” He cleared his throat to steady his voice, “Dean, you held out for thirty years, that’s long than anyone would have.” But his words did nothing to ease the guilt in Dean’s chest.

“How I feel...this...inside me...I wish I couldn’t feel anything, Sammy. I wish I couldn’t feel a damn thing.” Sam couldn’t find the words he was looking for to try and comfort Dean. But Tara didn’t even try. She just laid her hand out, palm up, against the hood of the car. When Dean saw it, he grabbed it and squeezed as hard as he could. The pressure hurt, but Tara squeezed back without uttering a single complaint. Because that was what he needed right now. Like she’d needed an ear earlier, and Dean had listened, this was what he needed from her now, and she was more than happy to help.

She locked eyes with Sam over her shoulder. He clearly wasn’t alright with what he just heard, but he’d find a way to be. For now, though, he was grateful that Tara was with them. And when their eyes met, in that brief moment to acknowledge each other, his heart fluttered in a way it hadn’t done since Jessica.


	18. Family Remains

It was almost the middle of December and Tara was exhausted. Ever since the incident with Anna, the angels, and the demons, or really since Dean had told them about Hell, they’d been working. She was strung out both mentally and physically. Her aim with a gun and her skills in research and BS-ing cops and other witnesses had skyrocketed, but she had drawn the line at less than six hours of sleep. Even when she was stressed to the limit at school, she never got less than six hours a night. And right now, getting those hours meant curling up on the space behind the backseat while Sam slept there. Dean was in the front seat, pouring through newspapers with a flashlight. Tara was using her jacket to block out both the light and his rustling.

She wasn’t quite asleep, but she wasn’t awake either. It was that gray area, where she wasn’t sure what was reality and what was the remains of her dream. The voices, she decided, were Sam and Dean talking. And not in her dream either, given how tired Sam sounded.

“–or are we pretending that never happened?” Were the first words she managed to process. 

“Stratton, Nebraska–farm town.” The change in subject was so abrupt that for a second, Tara thought she’d fallen asleep without realizing for like five minutes, “A man gets hacked to death in a locked room, inside a locked house. No signs of forced entry.”

“Sounds like a ghost.”

“Yes it does.” Sam groaned, letting himself fall back onto the seat. But he only laid there for a moment. Dean obviously wanted to get going now, and he couldn’t drive anywhere with Tara where she was.

“Hey.” Tara felt a hand on her back, patting gently.

“What?” She grumbled, turning her head to look at Sam. He looked just as whacked as she felt, but he was still drop dead attractive, especially with the way his hair hung over one eye. Despite what she’d hoped, her initial attraction to him hadn’t gone away. In fact, if anything it had intensified. She hadn’t done anything about it, though. Just knowing that he had a lover out there, even if they hadn’t seen Ruby since November, was enough to keep her from making a move on Sam.

“Dean found another case. Why don’t you come down here and I’ll get back in the front.” He didn’t seem to like his idea, so Tara shook her head.

“No, you stay here. I’m smaller.” She twisted around, lowering her feet onto the floor before clambering over into the front. Once she did, she curled up against the door and used her jacket as a pillow on the window. Sam laid his head back down on the backseat, and tried not to think about how inviting her ass had looked in the yoga pants she was wearing.

\------

It was the middle of a gray afternoon when Dean pulled up outside the empty house for sale in the middle of nowhere. It had been a mild fall and an even milder start to December in the area, so all the trees still had their multi-colored leaves on them. The house itself was big, with a wrap-around porch and everything. They parked and quickly made their way up the stairs to the front door. Tara picked the lock with ease and let them all inside. 

All the rooms on the ground floor were empty. The floor was dark hardwood and the walls of the living room, the room where the guy had been killed, had brown, leafy wallpaper on the wall.

“Boy, three bedrooms, two baths, and one homicide.” Dean remarked as they made their circuit of the ground floor, “This place is gonna sell like hotcakes.” Sam chuckled a bit, but Tara silently lamented how long it had been since she’d had access to Bobby’s kitchen and been able to make hotcakes.

The kitchen wasn’t in great repair. The linoleum was peeling up and the walls were a yellow color that clashed with the cupboards. But Tara ignored that and started going through them, checking for anything left behind.

“Hey, check this out.” Dean was examining a section of the wall that had recently been repaired. He knocked inside the square, and it made a different noise than the rest of the wall.

“It’s probably a dumbwaiter. All these old houses had them.” Sam said.

“Know-it-all.” Dean muttered.

“What?”

“What?”

“You said…”

“What?”

“Nevermind.” Dean smirked at Tara and they followed Sam upstairs. It had the same dark flooring, and just like downstairs, all the rooms were empty.

“Well, no bloodstains, fresh coat of paint, this is a bunch of bubkes.” Tara and Sam turned on their EMF meters. Both devices went off violently.

“Needle’s all over the place.”

“Yeah, power lines.” Dean pointed outside.

“Damn.” Tara stowed her device.

“Great.” Sam turned his off too and opened the closet, “So, uh, ugh.” His disgust got Tara’s attention, and as soon as she looked, she wished she hadn’t. A dirty doll head was sitting on the floor in the middle of the closet.

“That’s all kinds of wrong.”

“And super disturbing.” Dean added. 

“Think it got left behind?”

“By who? Unless Bill Gibson liked to play with doll heads.” Sam laughed and Tara grimaced, but the sound of an approaching vehicle drew their attention outside. A big SUV was coming up the driveway, followed by a moving truck.

“Uh-oh.”

“I thought you said this place was still for sale?”

“Apparently, it’s not.”

“Yeah, no shit.” They rushed downstairs. But instead of slipping out the back door, they greeted the new owners of the house head on. By the time they got to the front door, the family was already sprawled across the front lawn. A young boy was playing with a dog, a teenage girl was standing next to a suitcase, and two men and a woman were getting other suitcases out of the trunk. The girl spotted them before they made it down the stairs.

“Can I help you?” One of the men came to meet them, his tone borderline confrontational.

“Hi, are you the new owner?”

“This is Mr. Stanwyk, Ms. Perry, and I’m Mr. Babar.” The three of them flashed their badges, “County Code enforcement.”

“We just had the building inspected last week.” The man said, “Is there a problem?”

“Asbestos in the walls, a gas leak, yeah I’d say we got a problem.”

“Asbestos? Meaning what?” The wife asked.

“Meaning until the house is up to code, it’s uninhabitable.” Sam explained.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. You’re saying we can’t stay here?”

“It’s a health hazard.”

“Trust me.” Tara said firmly, “You don’t want to.”

“Hold up.” The other guy spoke up, “We just drove 400 miles.”

“There’s a motel just down the road. Til this gets cleared up, I suggest you stay there.”

“Alright, and what if we don’t?” The man challenged, his hands on his hips.

“Well, you get a fine, you go to jail. Pick your poison.” The man looked back at his family. The other adults looked tired, but the girl looked all-out crushed.

“It won’t take long.” Tara promised, “Two days, at the most. And then you can move in.”

“One night.” The man insisted, “One night and I’ll take care of everything. ASAP, I promise.”

“Yeah, you do that.”

“ _ Another _ motel?” The girl groaned, “Awesome, dad. I hope this one has hooker sheets like the last one.”

“Kate.” Her mother scolded her. Tara bit her lip to hold in a laugh.

“Come on, Danny!” The man called to the boy and the dog. Sam, Dean, and Tara headed back to the Impala. By the time they pulled out, the family had finished putting their bags back in the car.

\------

Since the house itself had been a bust, they threw on their Fed getups and went to the home of Mrs. Curry, the former housekeeper. She was a suspicious woman, talking to the three of them through her screen door.

“What did the room look like when you found it, Mrs. Curry?” Sam got right to the point after they introduced themselves.

“I already told the local boys–there was blood. Everywhere.”

“And Mr. Gibson, where was he?”

“Everywhere.” She repeated.

“How long have you been cleaning Mr. Gibson’s house?” Tara tried a different approach.

“About five years.”

“So you knew him pretty well?”

“Oh, not really well, he was real private. Not the easiest man, not that I blame him.”

“Why’s that?”

“His wife dies in childbirth, daughter hangs herself in the attic twenty years later. I’d be bitter too.” It was clear that the woman didn’t hold any resentment, “I think I got some pictures.” She disappeared for a few moments, and when she came back, she had a couple old prints in her hand.

“Here.” She opened the door just enough to pass them to Dean.

“Thanks.” One was a school picture, of a girl with dark hair a little shorter than Tara’s. The other was of a couple in front of the house.

“Can we keep these?”

“Suit yourself.” Mrs. Curry shrugged.

“Now, why’d the daughter kill herself?” Tara struggled to keep her voice steady as she asked.

“I don’t know. That was before my time.”

“Did you ever notice anything odd in the house while you were cleaning it?” Dean pocketed the pictures.

“Like what?”

“Like, you know, light’s going on and off, things not being where you left them.”

“No.” She said at first, but then her brow furrowed, “Well, maybe there  _ was _ one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Well sometimes, I thought I heard, like, a rustling in the walls.”

“Like a rat?”

“Musta been some big sons of guns out there, huh?”

“Wouldn’t know, never saw any.”

“Do you happen to know where Mrs. Gibson and her daughter are buried?” Sam asked.

“They were both cremated.” The conversation was pretty much over after that.

“So it probably wasn’t the mom or the daughter.” Sam reflected on their way back to the car, “Whose ghost was it?”

“I don’t know. But I say we give that place a real once-over and see.”

“But aren’t ghosts attached to objects sometimes? Maybe it’s the doll head or something.” Dean shuddered at the prospect of touching that thing.

“God, I hope not.” Sam’s nose wrinkled in disgust.

\------

As it turned out, a deep search of the house wasn’t in the cards. When they pulled into the driveway, it was long past dark, and the first thing Tara noticed was that there were lights on in the house.

“Crap.” Dean spat. Not only were the lights on, but the moving van and the white SUV were still there, with no evidence that they’d ever left.

“So...what do we do now?” Tara asked.

“We could tell them the truth.” Sam suggested.

“Seriously?”

“Really?”

“No, not really.”

“So what, then?”

“Wait, unfortunately. Wait for the ghost to come out. Maybe then they’ll be a bit more cooperative when we tell them to leave.” Tara rubbed her eyes, already dreading the hours to come.

“Peachy.”

As it turned out, they didn’t have to wait more than five minutes before a loud scream came from inside the house. Dean put the car in gear and sped up the rest of the driveway. Once there, Tara tumbled out of the car, stumbling a bit on the grass before pursuing Sam and Dean up to the house. 

Sam pounded on the door several times before it opened.

“We heard screams, what’s going on?” Dean didn’t even wait to be invited in. The family was in the living room. The parents were still dressed, but the kids were in pajamas.

“Oh, you three!” The father exclaimed, “Did you touch my daughter?”

“What? No!”

“Who are you guys?”

“Relax, please. You have a ghost.” Sam just went for it. It wasn’t the first time Tara had seen either one of them do it, but the people they told didn’t always react well.

“A ghost.” The man rolled his eyes. Kate broke away from her mother.

“I told you!”

“It’s the girl!” Danny insisted.

“Both of you, relax.” He pushed them back to their mom, “What are you guys playing?” 

“Your family’s in danger, you need to get out of the house  _ now _ .” As soon as he finished, all the lights in the house fizzed and went out.

“Damn it.”

“What the hell?”

“Nobody move!” Tara heard barking outside. The dog! The barking turned into a high-pitched yelp, and then all was silent.

“Buster!” Danny shouted, running outside. The rest of them followed him.

“Buster!” The dad called, “Buster!” Tara heard a faint whimpering and a sick feeling built up in her stomach.

“Oh, no.” Evidently, the dad and the other guy heard it too. They ran down the steps and around the house, with Sam, Dean, and Tara on their heels. The ground was wet behind the house, a clear trail of it leading to the white moving truck. On the side of it, painted in Tara-didn’t-want-to-think-about-it, were the words ‘TOO LATE’.

“Buster!” The wife and children had come around on the porch.

“Go back inside. Go!” The wife grabbed the kids with shaking hands, herding them back around.

“We are not the bad guys, but you’re in danger.”

“First things first. You gotta get your family outta here.” The man looked at the message on the side of the truck, then back at the trio of hunters.

“Alright.”

It only took two minutes for the family to grab what they needed for the night. They stayed together, Sam, Dean, and Tara checking the rooms and protecting the family as best they could, but nothing attacked them.

“Head to motel I was talking about, you’ll be safe there.” Dean said as they descended the steps of the porch.

“What are you three gonna do?” Tara looked ahead to the cars.

“Uh, guys?”

“Oh…” Dean felt red hot rage build up inside him at the sight of his Baby, “Oh, come on!” All four tires were slashed. It was the same with the family’s SUV and moving truck. Sam opened the trunk. It was empty.

“Oh, come on!” Dean yelled at the night air.

“Dude, the guns are gone! So it the–basically, everything is gone!”

“Truck’s no good! Both tires slashed.”

“What kinda ghost messes with a man’s wheels?!”

“What’s going on? What’s going on?” Kate was freaking out, holding her robe around her tightly.

“Hey.” Tara stood in front of the girl, “Look at me. It’s gonna be ok.” But Kate didn’t look at her. Instead, pointed at something just over her shoulder and screamed.

“She’s there! She’s there!” Tara’s ears were ringing. That’s what she got for trying to comfort someone. They all turned around, but all they saw was an empty field.

“Where?”

“She was right there in the woods!” Kate was hysterical. Sam and Dean shined their flashlights on the whole area, but nothing moved.

“What’s a ghost doing outside?”

“You wanna stay and find out?”

“Everybody inside!” Dean ordered.

“Are you crazy?! We need to get the hell out of here!”

“In what?” Dean demanded, “This ghost is hunting us! Everybody back inside, now move!” He barked. That got them moving. Dean took the front, just in case the ghost was waiting for them inside now, while Sam and Tara brought up the rear.

They herded everyone into the living room, and Dean pulled a container of salt from the kitchen and started making a circle around them. Meanwhile, Tara built a fire in the fireplace, holding the poker like a lifeline. It was the only defensive means present; and she still felt naked without the gear from the trunk.

“Whatever’s outside, it can’t get in this circle.” Dean explained, “As long as the salt line is unbroken, this is the safest place to be.”

“Safe from ghosts?” One of men asked incredulously.

“Yes, as a matter of fact.”

“Ok. I’m not listening to this anymore. Come on.” The father decided, “I gotta get my family outta here. Let’s go.” Dean blocked his path to the front door.

“Nobody’s going anywhere until we kill this thing.”

“Sir, please. This is what we do. Just...trust us.”

“You hunt ghosts?” Danny asked.

“That’s right.”

“Like Scooby-Doo?”

“Better.”

“But not as kid-friendly.” Tara added.

“You saw her outside, right?” Sam asked Kate, “Did she looked like either one of these girls?” He held out the pictures from Mrs. Curry.

“Her.” Kate only glanced at them for a moment before picking the school photo, “She was paler and a  _ lot _ dirtier, but that was her.”

“That’s the girl in the walls!” Danny said when he caught a glimpse of the image.

“So it’s the daughter?” Sam whispered.

“That girl in the picture, she–she’s dead?”

“She killed herself inside this house.” Tara replied as gently as she could. Dean pulled her and Sam away from the family for a private chat.

“So, what, the maid got her story wrong? Rebecca wasn’t cremated?”

“Unless her spirit’s attached to something inside the house.”

“Or something on the land.” Tara speculated, “I mean, this is a farm, right? So what if instead of just haunting the house where she lived, she haunts the whole plot?”

“That’s a comforting thought.” Dean grimaced, “But we can’t search it all now. She hung herself in the attic, right?”

“You wanna babysit, Tara and I will check it out?” Sam suggested.

“Look.” The father interrupted their planning, “I don’t care who hung themselves where, maybe something _ is _ going on here, but–”

“It’s a spirit, man.”

“No, it’s just some backwoods hillbilly bitch and I’m not about to sit around here and wait for her to go all ‘Deliverance’ on my ass.”

“Well, nobody’s leaving the house.”

“Stop me.” He made to move around Dean, but the hunter grabbed his arm and yanked him to a stop. The wife gasped at the sudden show of violence.

“Listen, man. I’ve got a gun.” Dean bluffed, “You don’t get your ass back in that circle, you’re gonna have yourself a third hole.” He shoved the man back into the circle and Sam came over.

“Dude, you don’t have a gun.” He said quietly.

“And? I’m not letting that bastard or anyone else die tonight.”

“You ok?” Tara checked.

“Go.” He jerked his head towards the stairs.

Gaining access to the attic wasn’t the easiest thing, but eventually Sam managed to get the ladder down. The hinges were rusty, and Tara was half afraid the whole contraption would collapse with every step she took, fortunately it didn’t.

The attic was covered in dust and cobwebs. Clearly, it hadn’t been included in the makeover the rest of the house got before the sale. It was empty, for the most part, but there were a few old boxes sitting in the corner, along with a length of rope.

“Do you think that’s…” 

“Yeah, I do.” Sam opened one of the boxes and started going through it, and Tara did the same. Her box held nothing but papers, old junk mail, and bills. Sam’s proved to be more interested.

“Look at this.” He held up a red, leather bound book.

“What is it?”

“A diary.” He flipped open the front cover, “Rebecca’s.” He tucked it away, but before they could turn back to the boxes, they heard shouting downstairs.

“Come on.”

They didn’t bother closing up the attic, they just ran downstairs, reaching the bottom just in time to see a girl a little bigger than Danny tackle Dean to the ground. Inside the circle of salt. In one hand, she had a bloody, rusty knife.

“Hey!” Sam shouted, shining his light at her. The girl–if she could even be called that with her gray skin, pale eyes, and rat’s hair–screamed in agony and bolted off Dean, back into the closet, crossing the line of salt like it was nothing. Sam approached it with the light, and Tara stood ready to stab with the poker. He threw open the doors, but it was empty, and it wasn’t like there were any coats in it to hide behind.

The three of them ran outside, and the father came to meet them.

“Hey, are you ok?”

“Where is everybody?”

“Hiding.”

“Alright, go get ‘em.” He hesitated, “Go. Get get ‘em.” He ran back the way he came.

“So it’s not a ghost.” Tara said.

“So it’s just a girl?” Sam asked at the same time.

“It’s not just a girl. It’s psycho Nell. I’m telling you, Tara. Humans are the worst.”

“Who is she then?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s the daughter, Rebecca. Maybe she didn’t hang herself.”

“Dude, no. She’d have to be like fifty years old by now.”

“Well I don’t know. What’d you find in the attic?”

“Some old junk, I found Rebecca’s diary, that’s about it.”

“I wish you’d found a Howitzer.”

“God, me too.”

“Listen, we gotta get this family safe. I mean, it’s just a human, so they can make a run for it. We just gotta hold her off.”

“Joy. She clearly knows a way out of the house that we don’t know about, Kate saw her in the field.”

“We’re ok!” The rest of the family appeared.

“Danny! Ted!” The father yelled, “We gotta go!” Ted came running from the other direction.

“I’m good.”

“Danny! Come on!”

“Danny, buddy! We gotta go!”

“Told you it was some crazy bitch.” Ted informed the hunters.

“Yes, you did.”

“Good for you.” Tara sassed.

“Hey, uh, head to town. We’ll take it from here, ok?”

“Danny, come on baby! We’re leaving!” 

“Danny, we gotta go!” His parents were still calling, but he never appeared.

“Brain, where–where is he?”

“Danny!”

“Danny!” The wife started to break away from the group, but Brian stopped her.

“Suse, Suse, we will find Danny. I promise you.” She resisted, but he didn’t let her go, “You take Kate and go, now. Now! While you still have a chance.”

“Not without Danny, no way!”

“I am not going out there with mom alone!” Kate threw in her two cents.

“She’s right, she’s right.” Dean broke up the fight, “Until we find you son, the safest place for you right now is in the shed.”

“I am not going in there either.”

“Yes you are.” Tara lost it with Kate, “She can get you in the house, and she can get you out here. That shed is the most defensible location. One door, and boarded-up windows.”

“It’s not ideal, but it’s our best shot right now. Trust us.” Brian nodded.

“Suse, Kate, go.” Suse grabbed Kate’s shoulder and they ran for the shed.

“Alright, you and me, we’ll take the outside.” Sam instructed Brian, “You two take the house.” He told Dean and Ted.

“What about me?”

“Keep the poker, guard the shed. Holler if anything moves.”

“Got it.” She didn’t like being put on babysitting duty, but it was her turn.

The shed wasn’t very big, and it hadn’t been kept in good repair like the house. Tara caught up with Suse and Kate right before they shut the door.

“I’m gonna be out here, ok? Nothing’s getting past me.” She twirled the poker around for good measure. Kate looked a little less scared knowing someone would be standing guard, but Suse just shut the door. Tara put her back to it, holding the poker in one hand, and shining her flashlight around with the other. Nothing the beam landed on moved. At the moment, Sam and Brian were out of sight, and Tara hated the way that made her heart pound. On all the previous hunts, she’d always been with one, if not both of the brothers. She’d never had to stand guard or defend herself alone. And this thing wasn’t even a ghost with an Achilles heel. It was a wild girl.

But nothing came running out of the trees or the long grass, no shadows became feral girls ready to rip her apart. Instead, Sam and Brian came round the other side of the house, without Danny.

“Come on.” Sam said when he got close enough, “Let’s get inside. Wait for Dean and Ted.” Tara turned and knocked on the door. Someone inside screamed a bit.

“Shh! It’s just us. We’re coming in.” Tara pushed the door open. Suse and Kate were huddled towards the back of the room, and once the three of them piled inside and barricaded the door, the small space was feeling very cramped.

After about five minutes of standing in silence and almost complete darkness, Brian got antsy.

“Let’s go in. Let’s check the house.”

“We have to wait for those guys to get back, ok?” As soon as Sam spoke, someone pounded on the door. Suse and Kate both jumped again.

“Sam, it’s me!”

“Help me out.” He and Tara quickly dismantled the barricade enough to open the door. As soon as it cracked, Dean shoved his way in and shut it.

“Did you get Danny?” Dean looked at the floor.

“No.”

“No? W-well where’s Ted?”

“He’s outside.” Tara couldn’t see Dean’s expression in the darkness, but she knew it wasn’t good.

“Well why doesn’t he come inside?” Suse urged.

“Because I had to carry him out.” Dean put it as nicely as possible, “I’m sorry.”

“What does–what does that mean? What does that mean that you’re sorry?” Tara suspected Suse was in shock and couldn’t process rather than stupid.

“Are you saying that he’s dead?” Brian asked directly.

“No! He’s not saying that he’s dead, you’re not saying that, are you?” She babbled, in denial.

“We were in the walls, and she attacked. And I couldn’t get to him in time.” Suse all but collapsed in her husband’s arms.

“Uncle Ted is dead?”

“I shouldn’t have left him alone. I’m very sorry.” When no one said anything, Dean opened the shed door and went back outside. Sam and Tara followed.

“Dean, it wasn’t your fault.” They sat down against the wall of the shed. Inside, they could hear the family grieving their loss.

“I know.” He muttered, “And it was his idea too.”

“Huh?”

“There’s a hole in the floor, not far from that closet. Leads down to her kitchen. Ted didn’t want to go down, so I did. That’s when she got him. Would’ve gotten me too, I imagine. If I hadn’t covered my light.”

“What happened to Andy happened.” Brian’s voice filled the silence. Tara was confused. Wasn’t is Ted and Danny? Who was Andy? He kept making promises, about how he was going to find Danny, and about how everything was going to be alright.

“And we’re gonna make it alright, you guys got that?” Dean said to them.

“Loud and clear.”

“Good.” Dean got up and walked towards the house. Tara moved to follow, but Sam’s hand closed around her arm.

“Let him go.” He turned on his flashlight and flipped open the diary.

“Reading a girl’s diary, Sam? I don’t know, you guys cross some serious boundaries, but that?” He had the decency to blush.

“It’s for the case, be quiet.” Tara laughed a bit, but didn’t bug him again, content to just sit and watch for movement in their surroundings.

\------

After awhile, Brain emerged from the shed and went to stand by the front steps. Tara watched long enough to make sure he didn’t go into the house.

“Tara, read this.” Sam shuffled closer to her and held out the diary. Tara swallowed any flirtatious comebacks she had on the tip of her tongue and read the passage Sam was pointing at.

“And there are countless others just like it.” He said when she finished.

“You don’t think…?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Great. Let’s go tell Dean.” Tara rolled to her feet. While they’d been reading, Dan had approached Brian and they were talking softly. 

“Dean.” Sam held up the diary, “We gotta talk.”

They went into the house for privacy while Brian went back to the shed.

“What is that?” Dean asked as soon as the front door closed.

“Rebeca’s diary–I just finished reading it.”

“And?” Dean closed the closet doors. 

“That girl back there? We’re pretty sure that was Rebecca’s daughter.”

“Rebecca had a kid?” Dean propped a chair against the doors.

“It’s all she talks about. Being pregnant, being ashamed of being pregnant.”

“Jeez, rent ‘Juno’. Get over it. Wait–why kill herself after the baby?”

“Maybe because her dad called her a dirty little whore and said he was gonna lock the baby up where nobody could ever see it.” Tara flinched. Reading it in a passage was one thing, but hearing the words aloud was another.

“Why would he say that?” Sam gave him a look, “Oh, gross.”

“Yeah.” 

“So the daddy was the baby daddy too?”

“Dude was a monster, Dean.”

“Wow. A story ripped from Austrian headlines. Humans, man. So she’s been locked up in this house her whole life?”

“You saw her eyes. Has she ever seen light? She’s barely human.”

“Ok, so what then? She’s kept caged up like an animal and then she busts out and ganks dear old dad/granddad?”

“I guess.”

“Well, can’t say I blame her.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

“I’m sure her life was hell, Dean, that doesn’t mean she gets a free pass for a murder spree.”

“Not a spree.” Tara agreed, “But I’m giving her that pass for Gibson.”

“Like you know what Hell’s like.” Dean ignored Tara.

“I didn’t–”

“Forget it.” Dean looked away.

“So where do we find her?”

“Kid’s gotta eat, right?” Dean left the living room, heading for the kitchen.

“What?”

“He kept her hidden, locked up, but he had to feed her, didn’t he?”

“I guess.”

“I think I know where. Tara, gimme the poker.” She handed him the weapon and Dean proceeded to beat the recently-repaired area of the wall.

“The dumbwaiter.”

“Sam, go get Brian.” Sam ran out the back door while Dean continued to beat the plaster. By the time Sam and Brian got back, he was nearly though.

“He could’ve kept her hidden down there for years, kept her fed. Nobody would ever know.” Sam finished saying to Brian as they came in. Dean finally broke through the rest of the plaster and leaned down the shaft.

“Danny!”

“Danny!” Sam shouted too.

“Watch out, I’m going down.”

“Dean, wait.” Tara stopped him, “I’m smaller, I should go.”

“No, that’s my son.” Brian resisted too.

“I know it is. But I said that I would get him. I will. Let me.” Tara stood down from her argument too, looking to help Dean however she could. She took the poker back, and Sam held his flashlight. Dean checked up and down the shaft before taking his light back, reaching across, and hanging on to the studs. Then, he started lowering himself down.

“You got curtains?” Sam asked Brian, “We need rope.” Brian rushed off to get it while Sam and Tara peered down the shaft at Dean. It was deeper than it looked, and secretly, Tara was glad that it was Dean going down and now her. It was a squeeze for them to look at the same time. Tara’s shoulder was pressed up against Sam’s. She was all too aware of his wide frame and strong muscles in that moment.

When Brian got back, the three of them worked together to tie the beige curtains into a long rope with a loop at the end. Sam threw it down the shaft as soon as it was done.

“Danny!” Tara leaned over Sam just in time to see the young boy pull the loop over his head.

“Ok!” She backed up and Sam started to pull.

“Come on, buddy.” Brian took Sam’s place at the mouth of the shaft. Tara grabbed onto the curtains as well and started pulling. Brian was helping too, all the while encouraging Danny to hang on. Finally, he was able to grab Danny and pull him free. 

“Come on, I got you. It’s ok.” The boy clung to his dad, unable to say a word.

“Get him outta here.” Sam urged, “You gotta go.” Tara looked down the shaft for Dean, but he wasn’t there.

“Dean?” But he didn’t respond.

“I’m going down there.” Tara grabbed the poker off the floor.

“Tara, wait!” But it was too late. She’d hauled herself into the shaft and dropped. The impact on the ground jarred her knees, but she ignored the discomfort and the stench, shining her light around. She could hear sounds of a struggle, and she found it almost immediately. The girl had Dean pinned, again, and was trying to choke him.

“Dean!” She shined her light on them and the girl turned. Her scream was much lower this time when the light hit her eyes.

“Dean, drop!” Tara threw the fire poker like a javelin. It flew true, striking the girl in the center of her chest right as gunshots rang out. The girl spasmed once before collapsing in a heap on top of Dean.

“Ugh!” Dean pushed her off him.

“You alright?”

“Yeah. We gotta get the girl.”

“But I just–” Dean shook his head.

“That’s her brother.” He pulled her back towards the shaft. After handing her the gun, Dean pulled himself up. The lowest stud was higher than Tara could reach, so once he got to the top, she wrapped the curtain around herself and he and Sam pulled her up.

“You alright?” Sam asked as he helped her out. Tara nodded.

“Yeah.”

They ran outside, but it was already over. The family, minus Brian, were sitting on the steps of the porch. Kate was crying and Suse was practically smothering Danny. Brian was standing a short distance off, the front of his shirt stained with blood. He was looking at the ground, several yards off. One of the Winchesters shined their light in that direction, illuminating the body of the girl. Tara looked away when she saw the girl’s dead eyes starting back at her. Somehow, this didn’t quite feel like a victory.

The three of them spent the rest of the night fixing up the cars. Dean took care of the tires while Sam retrieved their stuff from the girl’s lair and Tara put it back in the trunk. She didn’t go back down the shaft since she couldn’t get back up on her own. One of the disadvantages of being 5’6”. But in a way, she was glad for it. She didn’t want to see the body of the boy she’d killed. “How are you holding up?” Sam asked as he helped her put the rest of the stuff away.

“I don’t know.” She turned around, crossing her arms and leaning against Baby, “Getting rid of ghosts and chopping the heads off vampires is one thing. Well, technically two I guess, but that boy was as much of a victim as the family. He didn’t know any better, and I just…” She thought about how she’d just reacted, thrown that poker.

“Yeah.” Sam put a comforting hand on her shoulder, “Cases like this are always tough.”

“It doesn’t help that he was my first kill.” She muttered.

“Don’t say it like that. He would’ve killed Dean, and then you. You did what you had to.” Tara took a deep breath.

“I know. Thanks.” She looked up at him, meeting his eyes. He was doing that puppy dog thing that Dean always bugged him about. Tara knew what he meant now. She didn’t want to feel better this fast, but somehow, she did. She put the last shotgun she was still holding into the trunk, and they closed it.

“Thanks for the head start.” Dean said to Brian and Suse, who had come out to say goodbye.

“Why doesn’t it surprise me you guys don’t like the police?”

“Sort of a mutual appreciation thing, really.”

“From a distance. A far distance.”

“Well, thank you.” Brian and Suse shook hands with all three of them.

“You ok?” Dean asked.

“No.” Suse answered honestly, “We’re the opposite of ok but...we’re together.” She took Brian’s hand. Tara felt a twinge of regret, wishing she still had something like that with someone, but what disturbed her was that the face she pictured on the other person wasn’t Dylan’s. It was Sam’s.

\------

They left town fast after that, not stopping for lunch until they were two states over. They went through a fast food drive-through and pulled over under and abandoned overpass to eat. Dean and Tara sat on the barricade while Sam leaned against Baby. Dean opened his burger, but after a moment, he wrapped it back up and put it down next to him.

“You ok?” Sam asked.

“You know, I felt for those sons of bitches back there. Lifelong torture turns you into something like that.”

“You were in  _ Hell _ , Dean.” But Sam didn’t get an answer, “Look, maybe you did what you did there...but you’re not them. They were barely human.”

“Well, you’re right. I wasn’t like them; I was worse.” Tara and Sam both sighed, “They were just animals, Sam, defending territory. Me...I did it for the sheer pleasure of it.”

“What?”

“I enjoyed it, Sam. They took me off the rack and I tortured souls, and I  _ liked _ it. All those years, all that pain, and finally getting to deal some out yourself. I didn’t care who they put in front of me. Because that f–that pain I felt...it just slipped away. No matter how many people I save, I can’t change that. I can’t fill this hole, not ever.” Tara looked away. 

She couldn’t try to comfort Dean this time. What he was saying was too similar to how she felt when Dylan passed away. So many people had tried to help her with words, or hugs, or other kind gestures, but in the end, it hadn’t done jack squat to help her. She just had to ride it out, find the things that made her feel better. And she’d found that in hunting. And yeah, she knew there would be cases like this one in the future, where it didn’t quite go according to plan or she had to kill a monster or she failed to save someone. But those were the downsides of the job, and they were far outweighed by the benefits. 

As long as she was with the Winchesters and they won more than they lost, there was no place she’d rather be.


	19. Sleepy Hollow

“Hey, check this out.” Tara spun her computer around on the diner table. She had a news article pulled up. Sam closed his own computer and Dean put down his beer to read the headline.

“Three new missing person’s cases opened in–” Dean cut himself off, “You’re kidding.  _ Sleepy Hollow _ , Michigan?”

“Yep. And they had eight more in the second half of December. Before that, they had maybe four a year. What do you guys think?” Sam and Dean looked at each other.

“I think,” Sam started carefully, “You’re getting better at this every day.” Tara smiled at the compliment. 

“Any ideas on what it could be?” Dean turned the computer back to her.

“Well, they haven’t found any bodies, so that’s not helpful. The people have been going missing for a few weeks now, so it’s probably not a werewolf. But other than that, it could be pretty much anything.” She pulled up a map of the area, “Huh.”

“What?”

“Well, Sleepy Hollow is right outside Hedgehog Wilderness State Park. Lots of dense woods, and part of it runs along Lake Superior, but it’s closed for the winter. Could it be a wendigo?”

“Geographic area is right, and if the park’s closed, it’s gonna go for the closest food source it can find.”

“But,” Dean pointed out, “If it’s a wendigo, there’ll be a history of disappearances in the area every twenty to thirty years.” Tara opened another tab in her browser and did some poking around, but found nothing conclusive by the time their food arrived.

The little mom-and-pop diner they were in was on the coast of Connecticut, where snow was falling hard, so Tara had decided to try New England clam chowder. It was everything she’d hoped for and more: thick, creamy, and warm. And when she crumbled saltine crackers on top of it, they gave it just the right amount of crunch.

While she ate, Tara reflected on how much her life had changed. Fall semester was long gone, and the spring one had begun without her. For the first time in her life, she’d spent the holidays away from her parents. That hadn’t been easy, waking up on Christmas morning without the smell of orange-pecan French toast filling her nose. 

They’d spent Christmas through New Year’s at Bobby’s, only really doing cases that were within a day’s drive. It had been a nice break, but Tara got the sense that Sam and Dean didn’t really do that on a regular basis, that they had only done it for her sake. 

Very few gifts had been exchanged on Christmas morning, but she hadn’t expected any different. They’d all gotten alcohol for Bobby, and Tara had bought her first adult magazine for Dean, but Sam had been harder to shop for. Eventually, after consulting Dean, she’d gone with a gag gift: lore on unicorns, and a new razor. Dean had gotten her some flannel shirts because “that’s what real hunters wear”, and Sam had bought her a copy of  _ Iron Man  _ on DVD. He’d seen her eyeing it in a shop a week before.

Her reaction when she pulled the newspaper off it had puzzled all three of them. She’d gasped, and teared up a bit before plastering a smile on her face and giving him a hug as thanks. Dean had giggled at first, calling her an Iron Man groupie, but Sam suspected that wasn’t quite the case.

Ever since she’d flirted with him back in Nebraska, he’d been quietly flirting back, testing the waters. Not in front of Dean, he wasn’t ready to get crap from him, or for Dean to tease Tara about it. But he was finding it didn’t take much to make her blush. A little sass here, a remark “under his breath” there, and her cheeks would look like someone dusted them with paprika. He found it adorable. But he wasn’t sure what she wanted yet, and since she was the younger party, he wasn’t going to make any advances.

It had been a thrill for Tara when Sam started being more friendly towards her. Not just in a platonic way either. During the very next case they’d worked after Nebraska, they’d interviewed a teenage boy. The only time he actually answered their questions was when she’d asked him herself. Sam had teased her about it while the two of them were doing research at the library later.

And every chance he got after that, it seemed, he’d flirt with her a little, and she’d flirt back. But she never took it farther than that because she was pretty sure Ruby would gut her if she found out. Besides, there were lines to not cross with someone who was seeing someone else, even if they weren’t exclusive.

“Hello? Tara? Earth to Tara?” Dean was waving his hand up and down in front of her face. She jumped and sent him a mini glare. 

“Yes?”

“Sam just asked you how the chowder is.”

“Oh.” Heat flooded her cheeks, “It’s good.”

“So this case in Michigan,” Dean took another bite of his burger, “I say we finish up here and head out. Sound good?” Tara nodded, proud of herself for finding her first case completely on her own.

\------

Three days later, on a cloudy winter morning, the Impala rolled into Sleepy Hollow, Michigan. The classic car handled surprisingly well in the snow and ice, and the further north they got, the more grateful Tara was for the flannel shirts from Dean. She’d taken another page out of their book, wearing a tank top under the flannel so she could unbutton it if she got hot in the car. 

Sleepy Hollow was a small town in every way. Quiet streets, a handful of stoplights, and a tiny police station. Only one motel was open year-round. All the others were seasonal, for the state park. They checked in there, put on their Fed outfits, and headed for the police station. Back in Connecticut, Tara had finally broken down and bought a slightly-too-big pantsuit from Good Will to keep out the cold better.

“This is your case.” Dean said to her as they got out of the car, “Which means you get to take the lead on this one.” Tara froze.

“Uh....” 

“Only if you feel comfortable with it.” Sam clarified, “And we’ll back you up.”

“Ok.” She said in a small voice, “I’ll do it.”

The police station was small. There wasn’t even a real security desk, just a guard in a foyer reading the newspaper. He waved them on when he saw their suits.

Inside the main room, there were maybe ten people. Some in cubicles typing away, another was on the phone, but most of them were milling around the coffee machine. Tara’s heart was pounding as Sam and Dean followed her over to them.

“Excuse me?” All the chatter stopped and all eyes fell on her. But she refused to choke, and flashed her badge, “Agent Ripley, FBI. These are my partners, Agents Page and Bohnam. We’re here about the missing person’s reports.”

“I’m Sheriff Cunningham.” A older guy with graying black hair stepped forward. Tara shook hands with him, “Now why is the FBI interested in a bunch a missin’ people? Don’t you guys have bigger fish?”

“Your proximity to Hedgehog Wilderness State Park brought us here. That park is protected land and our boss wanted us to check in.” Sheriff Cunningham raised an eyebrow, but then he shrugged.

“Maybe some fresh eyes is what this town needs. Come on, I’ll show you the files.” He waved them over to the only private office in the building, and Tara allowed herself to relax a bit.

“Have you found any connections between the victims?” Sam asked.

“Not so far. Different ages, ethnicities, careers, both men and women. They’re all locals, but then again, everyone this time ‘a year is.” The sheriff shook his head, “It looks pretty random. ‘Course, some ‘a these folk probably just up and left. Not terribly unusual for a town like this.” He hauled a box up off the floor.

“This is all we’ve got.”

“Thanks.” Tara accepted it from him.

“Now if someone was nabbing people from town, where would they take them?” 

“You guys are thinking a person’s doing this?”

“We’re just trying to cover all our bases.” Sam replied smoothly. The sheriff scratched his head.

“Well, frankly there just aren’t a lot of places. Some abandoned buildings at the edge of town, I suppose. There’s a big hotel under renovations a few miles up the road, but that’s about it.” 

“What about in the park? Are there any cave systems?” Cunningham shook his head.

“No, no. Nothing like that. Closest things they got to caves are the ranger stations. This time ‘a year, most of ‘em are buried in snow.”

“What about animals? Ever have issues with them?”

“From time to time, mainly black bears and wolves coming over from the park if food gets scarce. Haven’t seen any this year though.”

“Ok, thanks Sheriff.” The three of them left the station. As soon as the car doors closed, Tara sighed.

“So...not a wendigo, then?”

“Hard to tell. All it takes is one cave or mine, especially if its old and deep in the woods. I say we poke around the park’s borders tonight. If we don’t find any tracks or trails, it’s probably not a wendigo and we’re back to square one.”

“But before that, let’s go talk to some of the families.” Dean decided, “Who was the most recent person go go missing?” Tara dug through the box.

“Mina McClain. Thirty-two, married, no kids. Last seen by her friend Sharrol two nights ago on her way home after some birthday drinks. Her husband called the cops when he found her car in the driveway the next morning. It was locked, but she and her purse were gone.”

“So whatever grabbed her, it was probably at home. What’s her address?”

\------

“Thank you for you time, Mr. McClain. I promise this will only take a few minutes.” Tara said as he led them into the drawing room. Mr. McClain wasn’t what Tara had expected. While Mina’s driver’s license photo showed her to be fully figured and blonde, John was a stick of a man with unruly red, curly hair.

“I want to help any way I can. I just want my wife back. But, you know. Seventy-two hours, right?”

“We’re working as fast as we can.” Sam promised, “Now can you walk us through what you and your wife did that evening, up until she disappeared?” John sniffed.

“Um, well, she was here when I got home from work. Getting ready for her thing with Sharrol. She left around 6, I think. She promised she’d be back before midnight. I couldn’t wait up, my shift starts at 6am.”

“And what is it that you do?”

“I manage the Gas N Sip up in White Pine. I need to be there before open to take inventory and set up. But when I woke up, I couldn’t find Mina anywhere. The car was in the driveway, but she was just...gone.”

“And that’s when you contacted the police?” Tara asked.

“Yes. I just knew something was wrong. But they have so many missing person’s cases already that…” He shook his head and grabbed for a tissue.

“Was there any sign of a struggle? Tracks in the snow maybe?”

“No. I keep the driveway and the sidewalk well shovelled.”

“Do you remember waking up at all that night? Maybe you heard something?” Again, he shook his head.

“I take sleeping pills for insomnia.”

“Mr. McClain, do you or your wife have any enemies?”

“I mean, she was on the bowling team. They just beat out White Pine’s team for the championship.” Sam, Dean, and Tara shared a look. Whatever was going on, it was much bigger than a rivalry between amateur bowling teams.

“Did your wife know any of the other victims?” Dean asked.

“It’s a small town.” John shrugged, “Everyone kinda knows everyone. But I don’t think she knew any of the others particularly well.”

“Ok. Thank you for you time, Mr. McClain.” Tara stood from the white suede sofa, “You’ve been very helpful.”

“If you remember anything else, please call us.” Sam passed him a business card.

Back at the motel and in her comfy clothes, Tara lounged on the air mattress digging through all the reports she could find of missing people and animal attacks in the general area of Hedgehog Wilderness State Park. Meanwhile, Sam and Dean were looking into what else it could be.

“This is impossible without any witnesses.” Dean threw down the last file from the box. He’d gone through every statement backwards and forwards, but there was nothing that they had in common, except for the victim was alone when they vanished and not  _ one single person _ had seen it happen.

“And without bodies, there’s no way to know what this thing is doing to these people. It could be anything from vampires to a wendigo to a Native American god living in the park.” Tara groaned, letting her head fall gently onto the keyboard.

“I can’t find any evidence of a sudden slew of missing people or animal attacks. I mean, the actually numbers vary a bit by year, and maybe some go unreported, but…”

“Nothing glaring or concrete.” Sam finished.

“Nope.” Dean groaned, throwing everything back into the box from Sheriff Cunningham.

“Well I say we call it a day, get us some grub, and do some hustling. We’ll check out the park borders around 11.”

\------

There was only one bar in Sleepy Hollow, and unfortunately, it didn’t have a pool table. That didn’t stop Dean, though, as he went up to a group of people about his age and started a poker game. The Winchesters had tried to teach her how to play poker, pretty much all night until midnight on New Year’s, but she was hopeless at it. She understood the rules just fine, but when it came to bluffing or playing it safe and not scaring the other players into folding when she had a good hand, she was hopeless at it. Bobby had tried to tell her that part of it was practice, that she had to find her own way to play, and that was good in theory, but not at a time when actual money was on the line. So Dean handled the poker hustle while she and Sam ate and watched from across the bar.

“So.” Sam stabbed at his salad, “Your first case turning out to be like you thought?”

“Stop calling this my first case.” Tara rolled her eyes at him, “I’ve worked plenty of cases with you guys.”

“But this is the first one you’ve found.” He pointed out, “First one you’ve taken a lead on.”

“That–ok.” She broke eye contact with him.

“And it’s by far the most mysterious one we’ve worked since you joined us. You sure know how to pick ‘em.” He took a drink from his beer to cover his smirk when Tara flushed.

“I–I didn’t realize this one would be so frustrating. The news articles all pointed to–” Sam burst out laughing, “You ass!” But she couldn’t stop herself from joining him.

“No, you did great, really.” Tara met his eyes again, and found herself caught on them like a fly in amber. Or, in this case, blue-green-hazel amber sparkling with amusement. His dimples were there in full force, making him look a couple years younger than he was. Tara’s heart flipped in her chest, and she reached for her own beer. After spending all this time around the Winchesters, she was finally developing a taste for the stuff. 

Not that she was ready to admit that.

But she had had her own effect on the Winchesters. On Christmas, she’d finally strong-armed them into trying Bailey’s Irish Cream over vanilla ice cream. Sam hadn’t even tried to deny that it was good while Dean begrudgingly went back for a second helping. Somehow, it had ‘accidently’ been spilled on his pie too. Tara had made apple pie for the holiday, permanently cementing her ability to bribe the older Winchester.

“Am I good or am I good?” Dean plopped down at the table, slapping down a wad of cash. His sudden arrival made both Sam and Tara jump, blush, and look anywhere but each other. Sam cleared his throat awkwardly. 

Dean wiggled his eyebrows. There’d been tension between the two of them for weeks. Not super heavy, and unnoticeable to anyone who didn’t know them, but for Dean it was clear as day. This was the closest he’d actually come to catching them flirting.

“Something I should know?” He grabbed one of Tara’s fries.

“Get your own!” She slapped at his hand.

“I can give it back.” He opened his mouth, displaying the half-chewed fry.

“Ew!”

“Dude, that’s gross.” Dean snickered and finished the fry.

“So I asked around. Turns out there’s no fence marking the border of the park, just some signs. It’d be easy for something to just walk in and out.” He pulled out a map of the park and the surrounding area that he’d snagged from the motel.

“There’s about a mile stretch here that’s pretty close to town. If anything’s coming from the park and snatching people, it’s coming from there.”

“So what, then?” Sam asked, “We just walk that stretch and hope we cross paths with the thing? It’d be pretty easy to dodge us.”

“No, no. We’ll split up, put our phones on walkie-talkie.”

“Seriously? Split up?” Tara asked, “That’s the start of every horror movie ever.”

“Yeah, but this isn’t a horror movie. This is reality. Horror movie characters don’t have flamethrowers and guns and machetes. Plus we’ll be able to hear each other. We’ll be fine.”

“And we’ll stay in shouting distance regardless.” Sam added, sensing Tara’s lingering discomfort, “Because if it  _ is _ a wendigo, then it’ll be too strong for one of us to handle alone.”

“That’s not true. I took care of the last one pretty much alone.”

“Dean, that was a totally different situation. You caught it off guard because it was hunting me.”

“Eh, fair point. But whatever this thing is, we’ll take care of it.” Sam looked at Tara.

“This is your case, you get the final call. Are you good with this plan?” Tara considered it. She didn’t like the idea of tangling with an ancient, mutated human on her own, but if they took all of Dean’s precautions…

“I guess, yeah. So long as we’ve got the phones open and are within shouting distance.”

“Awesome.” Dean chugged the rest of his beer, “Let’s go.”

\------

The air was bitterly cold. Every inhale Tara took stung her lungs. It was a familiar sting, having grown up in the Pacific Northwest, but that didn’t make it any more comfortable. The clouds had hung around all day, and half an hour ago, they’d finally opened up and started dumping swarms of tiny snowflakes onto the already-deep snow. 

She was bundled up from head to toe in leggings, thick jeans, two pairs of socks, and heavy winter boots on her bottom half, a tanktop, a t-shirt, a flannel, a heavy jacket, and thick gloves on her top half, plus a hat, and a scarf that wrapped around her mouth and nose. She had a flamethrower slung over one shoulder, a serrated machete in her left hand, and a pistol loaded with silver bullets in her right. 

Overall, she felt like the abominable snowman. 

True to their plan, she had her two phones tied to her scarf, one on a call with Sam and the other with Dean on the line. The Winchesters were just as bundled up as she was, with a similar arrangement on their phones.

Dean parked the Impala in the street at the edge of town and the three of them headed into the trees. The forest was mainly made up of evergreens whose branches were heavy with snow. Every now and then, a branch dropped its snow on the ground in a heap with a muffled  _ thffmp _ . The first couple times it happened, all three of them jumped, but soon Tara got used to the noise.

They walked together until they reached the sign marking the start of the park’s territory. The paint was chipped and faded, but it was very clearly marked.

“Ok.” Dean’s voice was a little muffled, but understandable, “I’ll start off that way. Tara, you follow once I’m out of sight. Sam, you follow her. You hear or see anything, give a shout and shoot.” He brandished his treasured .45 with the mother-of-pearl-plated grip. Tara still didn’t like this plan at all, but she nodded anyway.

“Got it.” Without another word, Dean turned and started trudging through the snow parallel to the sign. His boots left a clear trail that the snow wasn’t going to cover anytime soon, so that was comforting, but she still got a heavy feeling of foreboding in her chest when he vanished into the silver swirls and green branches.

“You sure about this?” Sam murmured to avoid the phones picking up his voice, “I could go with you.” Tara considered it, wanting so badly to take him up on it, but she shook her head.

“No. Thanks, but I’ve got this.” She squeezed her fingers around the gun, trying to get them to stop tingling, and started following Dean’s footsteps.

The snow crunched and compressed beneath her feet with every step, the depth of the snow making it feel like she was wading through syrup. A light wind whistled through the trees, chaffing her exposed cheeks and drying out her eyes.

“Tara, I can’t see you anymore.” Sam’s voice crackled over the phone, “I’m starting out now.”

“Nothing up here yet.” Dean said. Tara let herself relax a bit. She couldn’t see either of them, but they were both close.

She looked to her left, her eyes jumping from shadow to shadow, looking for anything alive or moving, scanning the ground for unusual tracks. But there was nothing. Nothing save for some deer tracks. The tingling in her fingers and toes was getting stronger, but she ignored it, trudging on, following Dean’s footsteps. Literally.

An owl hooted loudly overhead, making Tara jump. She looked up, but couldn’t spot the creature amidst the swirling snowflakes. A branch dropped its snow nearby, with a  _ thffmch _ .

Wait.

That wasn’t the right sound.

Tara froze, her breath coming in short bouts. Whatever it was had come from behind her, to the right.

“G–guys?” She whispered, praying one of the brothers would pick up her voice.

“Tara what is it?”

“I think there’s something–” A shuffling noise came from right behind her. Gripping the gun, Tara whirled around, but something hard collided with the side of her head, and she collapsed to the snow, unconscious.

Sam heard the shriek come from ahead of him, echoing in the wilderness.

“Dean!”

“On my way back!” Dean’s voice was as labored as Sam’s as they ran back to where Tara’s shriek had originated from. Sam knew he looked like an imbecile, kicking up snow with every step, but right now he couldn’t care less about that. Tara’s footprints ran steadily alongside Dean’s for about forty yards. Then, another set of footprints came up from behind, mingling with hers. That same pair of mystery footprints walked away, significantly deeper than when it approached. Tara’s footprints ended in a depression in the snow. Whatever it was had just carried her off.

Lying in the snow, next to where the struggle had taken place, was Tara’s scarf with the two phones tied to it, along with her gun, machete, and flamethrower.

“Damnit!” Sam dropped to his knees and picked up her scarf. In the snow beneath it were a few drops of blood.

“Fuck.”

“Sam!” Dean came barreling out of the flurries only to see Sam holding the scarf and no sign of Tara.

“It took her.” Was all he said before he got up and started running again, following the mystery footsteps. They led back to town, maybe half a mile from where they’d been walking. But once they got to the town itself, the sidewalks and streets had been shovelled and plowed, leaving plenty of places for the monster to walk without a trace. Wet prints continued for a few feet, but then those were gone too.

“Damnit!” Dean shouted, not caring what time it was. Sam just felt a pit open in his stomach. Tara was gone, without a trace. Just like all the others.

They trudged back to the car in silence, and Dean went twice the speed limit back to the motel. As soon as he was in the door, he was opening the box from the cops and looking through the files.

“So it’s not a wendigo, and it’s not a Native American god. It’s gotta be a vamp or something else that can pass as human at a distance and drive.”

“Dean, that could be a slew of things.” Sam’s voice was small, “Hell, it could just be people, like in Hibbing. And we still don’t know where to start.” Dean threw a couple files in his direction.

“Start there. If we haven’t found anything in the morning, we follow up on every single on of these statements. We’re going to find her, and we’re going to find her alive.” They had to. It had been Dean’s idea to split them up, to put her on her own. And if he got her killed...he didn’t even want to think about it.

Sam stacked the files and opened the first one. With his other hand, he flipped open his phone and started dialling.

“What are you doing?”

“Calling Bobby.”

“No!” Dean objected right off, “No. You saw how attached he was to her back in  _ October _ . If she–” He cut himself off, unwilling to continue that train of thought.

“Fine.” Sam snapped, slamming the phone shut so hard he had to check to see if he’d shattered the screen, “Then what do you wanna do?”

\------

“Sharrol Evans?” They’d knocked on her door as soon as it was socially acceptable to do so. After scouring the files all night, they still hadn’t found anything useful, “Agents Page and Bohnam, FBI. You mind if we ask you a few questions about the disappearance of your friend Mina?” Sharrol was taller than average, with a slim figure and dark hair shot with silver streaks. They’d clearly caught her before her morning coffee, as she was hearing a pink silk robe and her hair was unbrushed. But she perked up immediately at the mention of Mina.

“Of course, come in.” They followed her into the kitchen, where she proceeded to scoop grounds into her coffee maker.

“Ms. Evans, can you walk us through what happened the night Mina disappeared?”

“Well, I had several friends over, but Mina was the last one here. She left around 11:30 I think? Yes, that sounds right. I walked her out, and stood on the porch until she drove off.”

“And at any point did you see anyone else? Maybe someone following her?” Dean prompted. Sharrol narrowed her eyes.

“Now you mention it, another car  _ did _ go down the street a few seconds after she did.”

“Did you see the driver or recognize the vehicle?” Sam tried to keep the hope out of his voice.

“No. It was a Honda Civic. I remember thinking it was odd because no one on the street owns one of those.” The coffee maker beeped happily and Sharrol turned away. While her back was turned, Sam and Dean exchanged a look.

“Alright, thank you Ms. Evans. You’ve been very helpful.”

While Dean went around following up with the rest of the not-witnesses, Sam spent the day hacking into the few traffic cams and security feeds around Sleepy Hollow, but watching the footage was slow-going because it was so grainy. Dean hadn’t had much better luck either; only about half of the people he talked to thought that  _ maybe _ they saw a Honda Civic following the person, but they weren’t sure. 

The twenty four hour mark was fast-approaching and the Winchesters weren’t any closer to finding Tara.

“Forget the cameras for a minute.” Dean’s voice broke Sam’s concentration, “This freak has taken, what, a dozen people by now?”

“Tara makes thirteen.”

“Right. So wherever he’s keeping them, it’s gotta have a lot of space. The sheriff said there were a few buildings here in town, but I just checked and they’re all too small or–son of a bitch!”

“What?”

“The hotel renovation. Cunningham said there was a big hotel shut down a few miles out.”

“And we didn’t consider it because we thought we were dealing with something in the park!” Sam pulled up a map and found the hotel the sheriff had been talking about. Fortunately, there was a traffic light camera on the way out of town.

His fingers flew across the keyboard, pulling up the footage from last night around the time she was taken. Sure enough, at 11:45, a black Honda Civic drove out that way. 

“Here.” He turned the computer around on the table to show Dean. The footage gave no hint as to what the driver was, but that didn’t matter. This was their only lead.

“Come on.” Dean was already throwing on his heavy coat and grabbing weapons, “Let’s go gank that mother.”

\------

The hotel was a massive wooden structure sporting several different wings as well as some surrounding cabins. The entire site was dark, and there was construction equipment looming everywhere. There were so many places to hide a tiny car like a Civic, and it didn’t help that it was snowing again. This time much heavier than the night before. 

Dean brought the Impala to an abrupt halt right outside the front entrance.

“Alright, you take the hotel, I’ll take the cabins.” He pulled out his phone and set it to walkie talkie, and Sam did the same. He double-checked that all his weapons were loaded and that the safeties were off before throwing the passenger door open and running into the hotel.

While the outside structure of the hotel remained intact, the interior had been gutted down to the studs. It made gave the monster fewer places to hide thirteen bodies, but the studs, tarps, and other construction equipment would make it easier for the thing to sneak up on him.

Adrenaline pumped through Sam’s veins and blood rushed in his ears as he moved from floor to floor, holding his flashlight in one hand and gun in the other. He didn’t dare call out for Tara, in fear of alerting the monster.

Meanwhile, Dean went from cabin to cabin, looking anywhere big enough to hide a person. In the fifth cabin, he found something.

“Sam, I’ve got a body.” Sam’s heart froze in his chest.

“Who is it?” He was afraid to hear the answer.

“Construction worker.” The body had been tucked away in the closet. His skin was a pale blue and frost was building up on his exposed face and hands. Dean pulled the body out to get a better look.

“Sammy, he’s frozen solid.” Dean wrestled with the man’s construction uniform until the collar snapped off, exposing his neck. But instead of revealing a mass of vamp bites, there was only a small hole, like a needle had been inserted there for a long time. Dean recognized the mark immediately, one hand going to his own neck.

“Sam, it’s a djinn!”

“What?” Sam hissed, going up the stairs to the next floor.

“It’s a djinn, dammit! He’s got a needle mark in his neck from the rig! Get back to the car.” Sam knew he should listen to his brother. He didn’t have the proper weapon to handle a djinn on him. But he had to find Tara first.

“Sam!” Dean’s voice came from his phone again, but Sam ignored it. The floor he was on now was different from the others. Instead of having a clear hallway-rooms structure with tarps used to separate the rooms, large areas of this floor were blocked off with much larger tarps. Sam peeked behind the one on his left, revealing a large open space. It was a formal dining room or convention hall of some sort. But just like all the rooms on the floors below, it was empty.

Sam made his way down the hall until he reached the elevator shaft, peeking into each area as he went, but they were all equally deserted. Across from the elevator shaft was the largest area blocked off by tarps, and when Sam pulled he white, noisy material aside, his breath caught in his throat.

Thirteen rigs stood in a row in the middle of the room, each with a body hanging from them. Sam’s eyes found Tara, on the far right, almost immediately. Her brown hair was tangled, her heavy coat, hat, and gloves were gone. Sam ran to her side, checking her neck for a pulse. It was faint, but her eyes were fluttering rapidly beneath her closed lids. Her skin was pale, tinged with blue from the cold. Her fingers were the worst, bound above her head with rope and bared to the elements.

“Dean, I’ve got her.” Sam eased the long needle out of her neck. Unlike the rig Dean had been hooked up to, this hadn’t been draining her blood into a little bag, but into a gallon container. And it was the same with all the others here. The containers had varying levels of blood in them, and when Sam glanced at Tara’s, he guessed that she’d probably already lost a pint of blood, if not more. He applied pressure to the needle wound right away and Tara whimpered, but she didn’t wake up.

“Tara, hey.” He propped the flashlight against her rig and patted the side of her face with one hand, reaching up with the other to release her bonds, “Hey you’re ok, I’ve got you.” The knot in the rope came free and she became dead weight in his arms. Her sudden drop knocked the rig over with a clang and a clatter that echoed through the whole building. The flashlight fell and rolled, its beam landing on a pair of legs advancing towards Sam.

“Dean, thank God.” Sam swept Tara up, cradling her against him, “She’s still alive but she won’t wake up and–” He finally put his full attention on the other person in the room, and his heart jumped to his throat when he realized that it wasn’t Dean.

It was the djinn.

A pair of bright blue eyes glowed in the dark, along with several elaborate tattoos that covered the djinn’s face and arms. It reached out to Sam with both hands, and Sam stumbled backwards, tripping over his gun and then Tara’s fallen rig. Pain exploded in his right knee as he fell on it, and in the eerie glow the djinn was giving off, he saw it smile. 

But then a blade came through the front of the djinn’s chest, dripping in blood. The djinn’s glow flickers, its smile fell, and without so much as a groan, it collapsed to the ground. 

Dean was standing over the body, breathing hard. He turned his flashlight on and shined it in Sam’s face.

“Next time I tell you to get back to the car, get back to the fucking car.” Sam just glared at him.

While Dean went down the row, pulling needles and cutting the people down, Sam laid Tara back, brushing her hair out of her face. Her body was cold, but her eyes were still moving, like she was dreaming. He shook her gently, but this time she didn’t even stir.

“Dean? We got another problem.”

“What?” Dean asked, exasperated as he cut down the last person.

“She won’t wake up.” Some of the other people were already starting to stir. The ones who had only been here a couple days, at least. The ones who had the best chances of surviving.

“But I killed the djinn.”

“Yes, I  _ know _ that, Dean. But we gotta call an ambulance and get outta here.” Dean was already getting his phone out.

“Come on, then!” He stormed back towards the stairs, “Hi, uh, all the missing people are on the sixth floor of the south wing at the hotel under renovation. They need medical attention. My name? My name is–” He hung up, and yelled back at Sam again to hurry up.

\------

As soon as they were back in the Impala and on their way back to the motel to grab their stuff, Sam started trying to warm Tara up. He stripped off his jacket and flannel, followed by Tara’s flannel, T-shirt, and shoes. Then, he wrapped her against his torso and used his flannel as a blanket over her feet. He knew the fastest way to share body heat was to not have any clothes blocking it, but he wasn’t sure she’d be comfortable with even this degree of closeness. Plus, Dean blasted the heat on full, making the bricks he’d stuffed in the vents as a kid rattle loudly, so Sam figured she’d be warm soon enough. The thing that was worrying him, though, was the fact that she still hadn’t woken up.

After getting their stuff from the motel and ‘checking out’, Dean steered them towards Bobby’s. As much as he wanted to avoid telling Bobby that his newest surrogate child had been held captive by a djinn, they had nowhere else to take her.

They got in around daybreak. Sam had stayed in the back with Tara, finally succumbing to sleep after going more than thirty six hours without it. It wasn’t until Dean pulled off the highway, taking the exit ramp almost hard enough to knock Sam and Tara onto the floor, that the younger Winchester woke up.

“Ok, there’s Thing One, what about Thing Two?” Sam sat upright, wincing as he did so. He and Tara had been in the same position for so long that their skin had stuck together. But Tara reamined limp in his arms, seemingly unaware of the discomfort that came with Sam moving her. He laid the back of his hand on Tara’s forehead and his mouth went dry. 

“Drive faster, Dean. She’s burning up.” The low purr of the engine became a dull roar as Dean put the pedal to the metal.

“How bad?” 

“I don’t know! Bad!” Her hairline was slick with sweat and her skin was just as pale as when they found her.

“Damnit!” Dean whipped out his phone and dialed Bobby. While he explained what was going on as rapidly as he could, Sam strokes Tara’s ruffled hair away from her face.

“Hold on, ok? We’ve got you, just hang on.”


	20. Let Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ:  
> If you guys aren't familiar with the characters and events of Aliens (1986), then I highly recommend at least reading the synopsis on IMDb. (Or just watch it; it's a great movie. And a horror movie too, which fits the season.) But for most of this chapter to make sense, you need to be familiar with the movie.
> 
> To the commenter I already gave this advice to (you know who you are!) did it help knowing the movie before you read the chapter?

Calling Bobby had been the right decision on Dean’s part. As soon as they pulled up, Bobby was directing Sam around the side of the house to the basement’s fire escape. It was wider than the stairs with faster access to the panic room, the coldest space in the house. 

Sam laid her down on the cot. Next to it, Bobby had filled a bucket with ice water and put some clean rags in it. Sam grabbed one, squeezed out the excess liquid, and laid it on her forehead.

“You’re saying a djinn did this to her?” Bobby asked again and he and Dean entered the panic room. Dean nodded.

“But I ganked the SOB and most of the others woke up right away.”

“Maybe they broke free of their own personal paradises somehow, and Tara just can’t do that.”

“What, you’re saying she’s weak?”

“No! I’m sayin’ that maybe she don’t wanna let go of whatever dream world that djinn put her in and she doesn’t realize that she’s dying.”

“Dream world.” Sam muttered under his breath.

“But then how to we tell her? How do we make her let go from here?”

“We don’t.” The answer came to Sam suddenly, “We go to her. Bobby, please tell me you’ve still got some African dream root from Bella?”

“Maybe enough for one dose, but–”

“No.” Dean cut him off.

“Dean–”

“No, Sam! I know what you’re thinking, and it won’t work.”

“Why not? It’s close enough to a dream. And look at her eyes! She’s in REM. I figured out how to dreamwalk like that other guy–”

“This is totally different! She’s not just sleeping, she’s tripping on djinn poison.”

“Then I won’t try and influence it, but I can talk her into letting go.”

“Damnit, Sammy! I said no.” Dean lost it, “We’ll find another way.” He stormed out of the panic room and Sam gave Bobby his best puppy dog eyes.

“Bobby. You know this is our best shot, and we don’t know how long she has.” Bobby walked over to the cot and felt the rag on Tara’s forehead. While it had been freezing cold when Sam put in on, in the few minutes that had elapsed, Tara’s body had made it warm to the touch. Her eyes were moving almost too fast for REM, and her breathing was starting to become labored.

“Don’t tell your brother. I’ll go brew the tea.” He vanished, and Sam turned back to Tara, getting a fresh rag from the bucket of ice water and swapping it with the first one.

Ten minutes later, Bobby returned with the foul-smelling liquid and Dean came slinking in behind him.

“If you think you can save her, you might as well try.” He grumbled. Sam nodded, taking out his switchblade.

“Sorry, Tara.” He took a lock of her hair and severed the ends. Bobby handed him the tea and took up Sam’s post at Tara’s bedside. Dean just sulked against the salted iron wall while Sam put Tara’s hair into the tea and settled into the wingback chair. He took a deep breath, casting one more glance at Tara.

“Bottoms up, kid.” Bobby said. Sam steeled himself for the nasty taste of the tea and chugged the contents of the mug. When he finished, he put he mug down on the floor and closed his eyes.

\------

When Sam opened his eyes, he was still in the panic room. Only, Tara, Dean, and Bobby were gone. He sat up. Something else was off too. The daylight that was supposed to be coming through the devil’s trap in the ceiling was gone, and instead of a giant fan spinning above it, there was just plain metal plating. The door to the panic room was also closed. 

Sam sat up, glancing around for the weapons that they kept in the panic room, but none of them were there.

“Great.” He stood up and went to the door. At first, he tried to open the little window to get a peek at what he was about to walk into, but the mechanism was jammed. Sam rolled his eyes. Of course it was.

He yanked the handle, and fortunately, it moved like it was supposed to. The panic room door opened outward like it was supposed to, but when Sam stepped out, he saw that he wasn’t in Bobby’s basement anymore.

A long metal hall extended in front of him, branching off at regular intervals to create a grid-like layout. The walls were slanted, creating a trapezoid shape. The air was musty with a metallic tang, but it wasn’t ozone. The floor and ceiling were both grates, and lights were installed in the walls about a third of the way from the floor. Some of them were lit, illuminating the yellow and black signs at every junction. The whole scene was vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t place it. All he knew was that something wasn’t right. He felt like he was being watched and it was making his hair stand on end. That wasn’t the worst problem either. 

The worst problem was that there was no sign of Tara. Or anyone.

Sam turned around, but instead of seeing the panic room, he saw a bedroom that fit the same aesthetic of the rest of the place: a mattress on a metal frame, and a few other pieces of plain metal furniture.

He looked back to the front and started down the hall. His footsteps were louder than he liked, but nothing jumped out at him. Why was he expecting something to jump out at him again?

Every time he passed a door, his heart jumped to his throat. Just like the walls, they were solid metal. Anything could be waiting on the other side. But why was everything so familiar? Why would he recognize Tara’s ideal world? And why would her world resemble a broken-down space station in the first place? He’d come across no windows so far, so there was no way to tell where he actually was.

When he reached the first junction, he turned left, but it was just more of the same. Metal halls with windowless doors, and no windows. At the next junction, Sam stopped. Tara didn’t have much time left, he couldn’t afford to wander willy-nilly in hopes of running into her. He needed a plan.

Sam looked down the left corridor, then down the right one. The left was more of the same, but the right had a window in the wall, with artificial light coming from inside. He almost ran towards it, until he reminded himself that something was terribly wrong. So he crept up slowly, crouched, and peered through the glass. The room looked like a control room right out of the rebel base on Hoth, right down to the computers. But this definitely wasn’t  _ Star Wars _ . There were seven people in the room, and as soon as Sam saw the cameo patterned armor that five of them had on, plus the red bandana tied around one of their heads, Sam realized where they were.

“Oh,  _ fuck _ .” He straightened up and ran to the door. It opened, and suddenly he had five guns and a grenade launcher trained on him.

“Wait! Don’t fire!” He held up his hands.

“Sam?” Tara’s jaw dropped and she lowered her weapon, “What the hell?”

“Jones, you know this guy?” One of the soldiers asked her. Sam recognized everyone in the room except him. He had dark, slightly curly hair longer than the rest of the marines.

“Yeah. And I need to talk to him for a minute here.”

“Does that mean we can turn this jerkwad into dog meat?” He referred to the only other civilian in the room. A man probably in his early thirties who looked far too entitled for his own good.

“Not yet. Just give me two minutes, please.” She grabbed Sam’s arm and practically dragged him over to the window, giving them a semblance of privacy. Meanwhile, everyone else turned back to the guy in the chair, the one they’d been interrogating and threatening. Carter Burke, from  _ Aliens _ . And now that he looked more carefully, he spotted Newt, sitting in a ball on a chair.

“Sam, what the hell?” Tara hissed at him again, “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you. Tara, you have to wake up.”

“What do you mean?”

“How much do you remember? Before all this.” He gestured to their surroundings, which he now knew was the space colony on moon LV-426. Tara’s brow furrowed and she bit her lip.

“We were hunting something. Out in the woods by that State Park. Something came up behind me. There was a flash a blue, and then I woke up on the Sulaco, coming out of hypersleep.”

“Ok. What we were hunting was a djinn. It was lairing up in that hotel being renovated not far from town. It poisoned you, put you in your ideal world and was feeding on your blood. We killed it but–”

“Hold on, ideal world?”

“Yeah. You can ask Dean about it, one got him awhile back too–”

“Sam, this isn’t my ideal world. I mean, I love these movies–”

“Hence your FBI alias.”

“Agent Ripley, right. But it’s become a nightmare.”

“What do you mean?”

“I never make it to the end.” Tara looked away, at the marine that Sam didn’t recognize. He had his rifle right up against Burke’s throat, “Remember that friend I told you and Dean about?”

“The one who passed away.” Sam confirmed gently. Tara’s breath hitched, but she nodded.

“That’s him. Dylan Holt. And he was more than a friend.”

“Oh.” Was all the reply Sam could muster. His mind was racing. No wonder she was so shy about flirting with him. She was still mourning her boyfriend!

“And every time he–” Tara’s voice broke and she looked up at the ceiling, blinking back tears, “–every time I fail to save him, a Xenomorph appears out of nowhere, kills me, and then it all starts over and I wake up on the Sulaco again.” She bowed her head and covered her eyes, “No matter what I do, I can’t save him. And I’ve tried everything. I’ve tried changing our movements, making him stay behind on the Sulaco, everything. And I’ve made it a little bit farther every time, but I just don’t know how much more of this I can take.” Sam’s heart ached for her. He of all people could understand how hard it was to consistently fail someone you love. But why did she feel such responsibility now?

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you.” Sam placed both hands on her shoulders, “You don’t have to. We killed the djinn, Dean and me. But we can’t get you to wake up and your body is burning up with a fever. You have to find a way to wake up.”

“I can’t.” Tara shook her head vigorously, “I can’t. Not until I reach the end and save him. I owe him that much.”

“Why?” 

But before Tara could answer, the room went dark and the emergency red lights kicked on.

“They cut the power.”

“What do you mean  _ they _ cut the power?” Hudson whined, “How could they cut the power, man?! They’re animals!”

“Is this the part where they…?” Sam looked up.

“Yeah.” Tara spat. And last time, they got Dylan before we made it into the vents.” Meanwhile, Hicks was barking orders, sending Hudson and Vasquez into the halls with trackers.

“Gorman, watch Burke.” Tara ordered, fighting her way through the tears, “Dylan, Newt, Sam, stay close.” Sam didn’t protest, instead grabbing a gun off the nearest computer console. It seemed similar enough to what he normally handled, just much bigger.

Hudson and Vasquez vanished out the door he had just come through, going in opposite directions. Tara grabbed a headset and threw another one at Sam. He caught it, and fumbled a bit trying to put it on.

“Here.” Dylan put down his gun long enough to help Sam get the headset put on, “Name’s Holt. Dylan Holt.”

“Sam Winchester.”

“Anything?” Tara asked over the comm system.

“There’s something.” Sam could hear the sensor beeping faster and faster in his ears, “It’s inside the complex.”

“You’re just reading me.” Sam found himself mouthing Vasquez’s words.

“No, no. It ain’t you. They’re inside–inside the perimeter. They’re in here!” Sam’s palms were suddenly sweaty around his weapon, hyper-aware of the fact that if he died in here, there would be no respawn and he would die in the real world.

“Hudson, stay cool!” Tara ordered, “Vasquez?”

“Hudson may be right.” Vasquez admitted after a few moments of tense silence. Tara started loading her gun.

“Get back, both of you.”

“The signal’s weird. Must be some interference or something.” 

“Yeah, or the ceiling.” Sam said to himself.

“Shut up.” Tara hissed.

“What? Why?”

“Every time I try to speed things up or change the sequence of events, he just dies faster.” She explained, “The only way I’ve found to go forward is to follow the movie.”

“Get back to operations!” Hicks reiterated Tara’s call, “It’s game time.”

“Newt.” Tara took the little girl’s hand and they followed Hicks and Dylan towards the door.

“Seal the door.” Tara said as Hudson and Vasquez backed into the room. Hudson grabbed Vasquez’s rifle and she and Hicks were working on the door immediately. The welders threw bright blue light over the room, creating false shadows. 

“Work fast.” Sam looked up at the ceiling, knowing that sealing the door would be in vain. He moved closer to Tara and Newt, his finger on the trigger. The thick smell of melting metal filled his nose.

“Cover your eyes, Newt. Don’t look at the light.” Dylan told her.

“Sam, if I didn’t know better I’d say you were nervous.” Tara teased as everyone else backed away from the door.

“Given that I know what’s about to happen, I think that’s reasonable, no?” But Tara didn’t get the chance to retort.

“Movement. Signal’s clean. Range: 20 meters.”

“They found a way in. Something we missed.” Dylan was incredulous.

“We didn’t miss anything.” Hicks insisted from the door.

“Eighteen, seventeen meters.” Hudson warned them.

“Let me see that.” Dylan gently commandeered the device Tara had slung over her shoulder that displayed a mini blueprint.

“Something under the floor, not in the plans,” It killed Tara to suggest that when she knew exactly what they’d missed, “I don’t know.”

“But there’s nothing else on here.” Dylan was scrolling around the plans too fast for Sam to make sense of them.

“Fifteen meters!”

“Jones!” Newt tugged on Tara’s sleeve.

“Definitely inside the barricades.”

“Let’s go!” She started pulling, but Tara held her ground.

“Thirteen meters!”

“That’s right outside the door. Hicks, Vasquez, get back!”

“This is a big fucking signal.” Hudson’s eyes were glued to his movement tracker. Hicks and Vasquez quickly finished sealing the door and ran back to the rest of them. Sam had ended up clustered in the middle of the group with Tara on his left. Dylan was flanking her on the other side.

“Twelve meters. Eleven!” The motion tracker was beeping faster now even as they retreated. Sam stumbled over a crate on the floor.

“Careful there, Winchester.” Dylan grinned as he avoided the same obstacle. The more Sam examined Dylan’s face, the younger he looked. While the rest of the marines were probably around Sam’s age, in their mid twenties, the way Dylan had smirked at him just now made him look like a teenager still–even younger than Tara.

“Ten.” Hudson’s voice brought him back to the crisis at hand.

“Then they’re right on us.” Vasquez’s voice went up in pitch, but it never shook.

“Nine meters.”

“Remember: short, controlled bursts.” Hicks was struggling to keep his calm. Sam could see the sweat pouring down his face.

“Eight meters.” They stopped and held position, “Seven. Six!”

“It can’t be.” Dylan shook his head, showing the first hint of fear, “That’s inside the room.” Sam gulped and glanced upwards.

“It’s reading right, man, look!” Hudson shoved the tracker in Dylan’s face.

“Well then you’re not reading it right.” Tara slung her gun and looked at her own tracker. From where he stood, just behind her, he could clearly see all the bright blue spots getting closer and closer.

“Five meters, man! Four. What the hell?” Hudson was starting to panic.

Something shifted above them. It wasn’t a loud noise, just a soft clank. Under normal circumstances, Sam would have ignored it. But this situation was far from normal.

“Oh my God.” Dylan had heard the noise too and saw Sam looking up, “Oh shi–”

“Give me the light.” Hicks climbed up on one of the tables and Tara handed him her flashlight. Sam’s heart was pumping hard inside his chest as he watched the marine lift one of the ceiling panels and peer inside. Sam held his breath, knowing what was coming next. He spared a glance at Tara, who looked just as terrified as he felt.

Gunfire rang out above him as Hicks half-fell off the table. Sam’s stomach jumped to his throat as the ceiling panels caved in all the way back to the door and Xenomorphs dropped into view. He had to squint to make out anything beyond their big, hulking shapes but there was no mistaking the elongated heads.

“There they go! Over there!” Hudson shouted, “Get ‘em!” And all hell broke loose. Everyone was firing, providing brief glimpses of the monsters as they vaulted over crates and tables.

“Sam! Shoot them!” Tara yelled. Only then did he realize he’d frozen up. The gun’s recoil was stronger than any he’d experienced before, but Sam didn’t let that stop him. He picked his targets and fired in short bursts. He couldn’t tell if he was actually hitting anything, but by the way the aliens were shrieking and collapsing, their blood quickly eating away at the floor, at least some shots were hitting their mark.

Another ceiling panel collapsed, this one almost right on top of them. Sam quickly aimed at the Xenomorph, which was at least two feet taller and far broader than him, but before he could fire, it shrieked and fell.

“Medical! Get to medical!” He heard Tara scream over the noise of the guns.

“Go!” Dylan stepped up next to him, “I’ll cover you.”

“Oh, no.” Sam looped an arm around the younger man and yanked him back towards Tara and Newt, “You’re not sacrificing yourself now.” Dylan gave him a funny look, but Sam ignored it.

Tara had just reached the last row of crates that created the narrow passage to their destination when a Xenomorph came out from around the corner. Her heart rate spiked and she fumbled with her weapon, finally getting it to fire. The recoil threw her back against the crates, but the alien was dead.

“Medical! Now!” She shouted once more as she dragged Newt around the corner. Just like the last time she’d been through this, Burke was already closing the first door.

“Burke!” She called, despite knowing that he was going to his death. She pulled on the handle, but it didn’t budge.

“Open this door!” She ordered, “Burke! Open it!” Footsteps pounded on the metal floor behind her and Tara whipped around. But instead of a Xenomorph coming to get her because Dylan was dead–like it had the last time–it was Sam dragging Dylan behind him.

“Oh, thank God.” She let herself have one easy breath when she saw them both alive. But they were far from safe. Gunfire was still a constant noise, and she could hear Hudson shouting obscenities at the Xenomorphs.

“Burke!” Gorman joined them at the door.

“I’m sorry, I–”

“It’s fine just get this door open!” Tara traded places with Gorman, creating a solid wall between him, Newt and the Xenomorphs. Dylan stepped forward, covering Hudson and Hicks as best he could. 

Hudson wasn’t backing down the corridor just yet, he just kept firing at every target he could see, ignoring Hick’s orders to get back. Suddenly, the floor beneath Hudson’s feet was torn away and a Xenomorph grabbed him by the ankle. Hudson gave a shout of surprise and rage as he went down. Hicks dove, grabbing Hudson with both hands, trying to pull him back up, but the alien was stronger, pulling both of the grown men down into the floor.

“No!” Vasquez arrived an instant too late to grab Hicks.

“Vasquez, get back here! They’re gone!” Dylan yanked her back a bit in the same way Sam had grabbed him a minute before.

“That wasn’t supposed to happen, was it?” He looked down at Tara. Her face was pale as she shook her head.

“No, Hicks was supposed to make it out alive.”

“We’ll have to make it work, then.” The last thing Sam wanted to have happen was for this whole thing to start again.

“Gorman! Status on the door.” 

“I’m almost through.” A massive explosion lit up the room as Vasquez switched to grenades. She fired two before retreating fully to the door with Dylan. Finally, Sam heard something in the door give.

“Got it!” Gorman said triumphantly, “Let’s go!” It slid open just far enough for them to slide in one at a time. Tara went through first, and ran up against the door to medical. Newt followed her into the little room, then Dylan and Sam. Gorman and Vasquez were last, and as soon as they were through, Vasquez started sealing the door.

“Burke!” Tara pounded on the door with a closed fist, “Goddamn you, open this door!” She knew they didn’t want to go in there, but she needed an outlet. Something rammed itself against the door Vasquez was sealing, making all of them jump. Dylan pulled Tara back so Gorman could start on the door.

“Jones! This way!” Newt pulled her towards the vent entrance. Finally! She helped Newt pull the cover off the vent, but grabbed the back of Newt’s shirt before she could vanish inside.

“Wait. Get behind me.”

“Whatever you’re gonna do, do it fast!” Vasquez growled. Tara shined her light in the vents. The coast was clear.

“Holt! Sam!” She crawled into the tiny space. Newt was right behind her, sticking to Tara like a shadow. Sam dropped to his knees and reached forward, trying to make his broad shoulders fit through the tiny opening. For a moment, he got caught, but then Dylan gave him a solid shove and he was in the vent. Sam scrambled forward as best he could. Tara had gotten into a crouch, but his legs were just too long to bend that way. He heard Dylan and the others piling into the vent behind him.

Tara stopped at the first junction. Now that she made it farther than before, she had to be careful. Checking over her shoulder, she saw Sam army-crawling towards her. Dylan was right behind him.

“Which was is it to the landing field from here?” She asked Newt. 

“This way.” Newt pulled her to the right. Sam watched as Tara and Newt started to get ahead of them, moving faster in this small space than he could. When he got to the next junction, he paused, laying on his side and then rolling up into a crouch. The vents had gotten just a touch bigger since they’d entered.

“Wait up!” He called to Tara, checking to make sure Dylan was still behind him. He was, but there was no one behind him.

“Here, get in front of me.” Sam moved out of the way. Dylan shook his head.

“No, no. You’re the civi–”

“Trust me, I’m not.” Sam replied firmly. Dylan didn’t protest again, hurrying after Tara.

At every junction, Tara paused and looked back to make sure the others saw where they went. Sam had let Dylan in front of him, which she was grateful for. She could hear gunfire in the vents now, and she knew it was Vasquez. A part of her wished she could save the tough marine, but Dylan had to come first.

“Which way?” She asked Newt again.

“Straight ahead and left.”

“Bishop!” Dylan shouted into his headset, “Do you read me? Come in. Over.”

“The ship is on it’s way!” Bishop was shouting too, “ETA: 16 minutes.”

“Stand by there, we’re on our way.” Tara stopped again.

“Which way now?”

“That way.” Newt pointed left, “No, wait! This way!” She pulled Tara down the right one.

“You’re sure?” Even though she knew this happened in the movie, the redirect made her nervous. She looked back at Dylan, and he nodded to confirm he saw where they went. He, Sam, and Gorman had stopped to wait on Vasquez.

“Vasquez! Move!” Gorman ordered.

“Go.” Sam told Dyan, “Move, we can’t afford to lose them.” Dylan reluctantly obeyed.

\------

Dean was pacing in the panic room and it was pissing Bobby off. Sam had been asleep for over an hour now, and Tara showed no signs of waking up. In fact, her fever seemed to only get worse. 

He turned on heel, walking to the door, to the wall, and back again. For the most part, he watched Tara, how her breathing was slowly becoming faster, more labored. He’d lost count of how many times Bobby had put a fresh cold rag on her forehead.

Dean pivoted again when he reached the door, this time his eyes snagging on Sam’s sleeping form. Sam had developed a sheen on his forehead.

“Bobby.”

“What?” The older hunter was exasperated with his ‘how is she’ questions by now.

“It’s Sam.” Dean squatted in front of the chair and laid a hand on Sam’s forehead. It was warm, “He’s got a fever too.”

“Damnit.” Bobby swore. Dean just ground his teeth. He’d known sending Sam into Tara’s head was a bad idea! Now, if he couldn’t get her to snap out of it, they were both going to die!

\------

“It’s right up here. It’s just up here.” Newt was moving faster and faster, but Tara slowed down.

“Dylan!” Her former boyfriend was nowhere to be seen, and neither was the younger Winchester, “Sam!”

“We’re almost there!” Newt rounded the corner they’d just arrived at, moving at a jog now.

“Newt, wait!” Tara halted at the corner, “Newt!” She looked back and forth between Newt and the junction. Right as she was about to drag Newt back, Dylan appeared.

“I see you!” He called, “Go!” Tara bit her lip. She knew Vasquez was about to die, but she couldn’t let Newt get to far ahead. She was just going to have to trust that Sam would stop Dylan from trying to save Vasquez.

Sam’s knees were killing him. He simply wasn’t meant to be moving this fast in a space this cramped for a long period of time. But he refused to utter a single complaint or ask for a slow-down, since he knew the aliens were right on their tails. He, Dylan, and Gorman followed the bend in the vents where Dylan had last seen Tara. When they made it, Sam was dismayed to find that he couldn’t see Tara ahead of them. Instead, the vent went another fifteen feet or so before curving to the left. 

Behind them, he heard Vasquez scream in pain.

“Vasquez!” Gorman shouted behind them. But there was no reply.

“Go!” He ordered Dylan and Sam.

“I’ll help.” Dylan protested, but Sam grabbed him. Gorman paid their little struggle no heed and just went on.

“No.” Sam held Dylan firm when he tried to pull away, “He’s going to his death. You have to recognize that.”

“We don’t leave our people behind.”

“You have to.” Sam insisted, “You have to survive, or else–” He cut himself off. He had no idea what would happen if he tried to tell Dylan the truth about everything. But Dylan didn’t demand an answer from him. He didn’t even seem shocked when Sam insisted he live at all costs. He just looked down at the floor.

“I know.” He finally said.

“Know what?” Sam pressed.

“I...somehow I just know. That this is all an illusion. That I’m….just her memory of me. But every time I try to tell her, the words won’t come.”

“It’s the djinn poison. Every time you die, this whole thing starts over for Tara. Out in the real world, she’s dying, and I probably am too. But the only one who has the ability to wake Tara up is her.” Sam looked down at the bend in the vent. Dylan looked in that direction as well, then back where Gorman had gone.

“We’d better go, then.” He finally said, and resumed his previous pace.

The vent ran unbroken for a ways, there were a couple turns, but no more junctions. Tara always looked back when they made a new turn, and soon she saw Sam and Dylan catching up to them. At last, Newt pulled a covering off the wall and climbed inside.

“Newt.” Tara went after her. The airway they were in now was tall enough so Tara could stand straight with room to spare. Much like in the movie, a fan was spinning slowly in front of them, and there was a ladder on the other side.

“Up there, there’s a shortcut across the roof.” Newt pointed to the hatch at the top of the ladder. Tara slung her weapon and grabbed the bars on the ceiling. Then, she stepped one foot on the ladder and the other on the fan to stop it moving. Before she could ask either Sam or Dylan to lift Newt, Dylan picked her up. Newt grabbed onto Tara’s jumpsuit, using it as a stepping stone to reach the ladder. 

They had to move fast, Tara knew. This was the one thing she was going to try and prevent: Newt getting captured and brought to the nest. So she kept one hand on Newt’s back as the girl climbed the rungs. She got to the top and popped the hatch. They were going to make it!

Dylan moved to go up next, wrapping an arm around Tara for support as he stepped onto the curved surface of the fan. Tara’s eyes threatened to flutter closed when his arm wrapped around her. It had been so  _ long _ she’d almost forgotten what it felt like.

An explosion rocked the entire facility. Smoke and fire flew in through the still-open hatch, almost setting Sam’s hair ablaze as he dodged to the side. The fan collapsed under Dylan’s feet. He grabbed Tara’s jumpsuit with the hand that had been reaching for the ladder and desperately tried to hold on. 

Tara’s shoulders screamed at the sudden increase in weight on them. She didn’t know how she held on as she and Dylan swung back and forth over the perilous drop onto more machinery. But then Dylan lost his grip on her, letting go at just the wrong angle and landing at the entrance to the vent that Newt should’ve gone down. 

“No!” Tara screamed.

“Holt!” Came Newt’s voice from up above. Dylan only just managed to catch himself on the rim of the vent. The metal rim was curved and smooth, but he held on.

“Sam!” Tara was fighting back tears, “Sam, get him! Fast!” Sam dove for the vent. The lack of a fan to lean on would’ve made it impossible for anyone with a shorter wingspan to reach Dylan, but now Sam’s long limbs came in handy. His fingers closed around Dylan’s left wrist.

“I’ve got you.”

“Hold on, Dylan!” Tara hooked an ankle into the ladder and threw herself towards Dylan. Like him, she only just managed to grab onto the vent and his other wrist.

“Tara.” He tried to say, the strain of holding on making every word difficult.

“Don’t let go. Sam, pull!” Sam strained, trying to pull the marine up the slanted vent. At first, it worked. Inch by inch, they brought Dylan back up.

Until his armor caught on a nail that was sticking up out of the plating. 

Tara felt it when he hit the snag, and what was once slow progress came to a screeching halt. Her arm were burning, and her ankle felt like it was going to snap with the way she had it wedged, but she didn’t let go.

“Tara.” Dylan tried to say again.

“No! We’re getting you out of there.”

“I’m sorry.” Her grip on his wrist was more precarious compared to Sam’s, so it took little effort to wrench his hand free. Once that happened, he swung, and Sam lost his grip too.

“No! Dylan!” But it was too late, and he slid right down the vent. Why? Why hadn’t she learned her lesson!? Every time she tried to change something, avoid something, speed things up, it all went wrong! And she’d been so close!

“Stay where you are, Dylan.” Sam shouted down the shaft, “We’re coming to you.” Somehow, Tara managed to pull her upper body back up to the ladder and untangle herself. Then, she leapt back to Sam.

“Stay here, Newt.” She ordered, snatching the tracker off her wrist as Sam kicked in a different vent and swung through the opening. This one led to the stairwell.

“You know where he is, right?” He asked as he helped Tara through. The way she favored her left ankle didn’t go unnoticed.

“Yes. Bottom level.” And she was bounding down the stairs, taking them two at a time.

When she reached the bottom, Tara turned right without hesitation.

“Dylan!”

“Tara!” Came his slightly distant reply.

“Where are you? Can you hear me?” Tara and Sam were sprinting towards his voice.

“I’m here!” He pulled himself out of the water, onto the pipes and banged on the grate. Tara rounded the corner just in time to see him stick his fingers through the gaps. Her heart leapt as she fell to the floor and laced her fingers with his.

“Dylan.” She could see his brown eyes through the grate, “Are you ok?” He nodded.

“Listen, Tara–”

“Use your welder. You’re gonna have to cut your way out.” But he shook his head.

“Tara, it’s fried. Ruined by the water. Just like my phone after Julian dropped it in the fountain, remember?” Tara gasped.

“H–how do you remember that?” Dylan smiled sadly.

“I think you know.” He saw the water move several yards off. Right on time, it would seem.

“No.” She was shaking her head, her grip on his hand tightening, “No that can’t be.”

“Tara, baby listen to me.” He pleaded, “We don’t have a working welder. I’m not getting out of here alive, and I think you know that.”

“No.” A tear fell from her eye, through the grate, and landed on his cheek, “No, here.” She pushed the tracker through the grate and into his hand, “I have to save you.”

“You already have.” He pocketed the tracker and reached back up, reaching through the grate to brush her cheek, “But now you have to save yourself. It’s time to wake up.” It took all his strength to get those last five words out. At the edge of his vision, Dylan saw the alien emerge from the water. He only had seconds before it grabbed him.

“Dylan–”

“I love you.” He said quickly.

“I love you too.” The damn finally broke and Tara let her head fall against the grate, squeezing his hand like a lifeline. Tears fell freely as she watched Dylan smile through the mist in his own eyes, “I’ll never forget you.” She choked out.

“I know.” He pulled himself up and kissed her through the grate. Tara let her eyes fall closed when she felt his lips against hers, trying to save every detail of this last, imperfect kiss. But it was too short. Something wrenched Dylan away from her and into the water with a splash.

“No!” Tara screamed, looking at where his fingers had been holding hers only moments before, “Dylan!” She got up, ready to run, but Sam stopped her, putting himself in front of her and leaving her nowhere to look but his eyes.

“Tara, Tara slow down.” He begged.

“No! He’s still alive, I know it! They kept Newt alive and–”

“This is the part where Hicks gets sprayed with the blood.” Sam reminded her, “I’m basically Hicks now, and I’m not wearing any armor. Tara, if I die in here, I die in real life.”

“But I can save him.” She insisted.

“I’m sure you could, but that won’t change anything. It won’t bring him back.” 

“But it would make me feel better! I couldn’t save him before so the least I can do is save him now.”

“Why? Why do you feel so responsible for him? His death had nothing to do with you.”

“Yes it did. I should’ve known the signs, I should’ve done more. If I had, then maybe he wouldn’t have–” She broke off, sobbing. All the strength drained out of her and she collapsed against Sam. In that moment, he finally understood. He let them both sink to the ground, holding her trembling body against his own.

“There was nothing you could have done. Not as a permanent fix, anyway. Only a professional could have done that. And sometimes, no matter how many people try to save someone, they just don’t want to be saved.” He heard something pounding against the vent nearby. They were running out of time.

“Listen to me.” Tara felt him pull her chin up so he could see her face, “You have to let him go. That’s the only way you’re gonna wake up.”

“But I can’t. He was–”

“I’m not asking you to forget him. Just like I will never forget my girlfriend, Jessica. But I don’t think he’d want you to die like this. Inside your own head.”

“I didn’t get to say goodbye.” She mumbled.

“What do you mean? You just did.”

“In real life, I mean. I didn’t even hear that he was gone until the next day. I almost went to see him that day too, to ask when he wanted to go see  _ Iron Man _ . But I had homework.” She spat the last word, “And by the time I finished, I’d forgotten, and I just went to my friend’s room for a movie night.”

“But you got to say goodbye now.” Sam reminded her.

“I know.” She whimpered, “It’s just…” She couldn’t put it into words, instead choosing to look down at the tracker. With every passing moment, Dylan was getting farther and farther away. 

The vent cover finally gave and the Xenomorph burst into the corridor. Sam struggled to aim his weapon at it, but Tara didn’t even try. She just let the tracker fall from her hand.

It never hit the floor.

Instead, Tara bolted upright on the cot and Sam jerked awake in the wingback chair. As soon as Tara realized where she was, she burst into tears. Her heart was pounding, her throat was dry, and her whole body hurt, but she didn’t try to stop the tears from coming. 

“What happened?” Dean went over to Sam, but Sam ignored him. He pulled himself to his feet and went straight to Tara. Bobby moved, allowing Sam to sit on the cot and hold Tara to him as tightly as he dared, not wanting to strain her body any more than it already had been.

Tara was grateful for Sam’s hug, and just let herself sob into his flannel shirt. She’d let go of Dylan enough to break free of the djinn poison, but that just made his death feel like a fresh wound again.


	21. Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap, guys! I posted first posted this back in June and already I have almost 1000 hits! I can't express my gratitude enough. Hope you enjoy this chapter, I'm kind of glazing over the next couple episodes. Comments and kudos make my day, so let me know what you think!
> 
> ~Mira

Sam was more than happy to sit there and hold Tara as long as she needed, but Dean wasn’t that patient. He started hounding Sam with questions right off the bat while Bobby sat back and did nothing to reign Dean in.

“The hell happened?” Were the first words out of Dean’s mouth, “What took you so long? You realize you both almost died, right?” Sam rolled his eyes, which only served to aggravate his brother more.

“Sam, just give us the lowdown, best as you can.” Bobby tried to diffuse the situation for Tara’s sake. Sam looked down at her. He could only see the top of her head, but she was facing the salt-coated iron wall, her body trembling with every desperate inhale. He could feel the dampness of her tears through the two layers that he had on, and both her hands had come up to grasp the white and orange marble around her neck. In order to try and keep her fever down, they’d taken her long-sleeved shirt off, leaving her wrists exposed. For the first time, Sam’s eyes fell on the second tattoo Tara had gotten back in November. Despite being in very close quarters with her, she’d always made sure it was covered, and even after Dean bugging her for weeks, she hadn’t shown it to them. But Sam saw it now. It was a little thing, a treble cleft and a base cleft had been put next to each other so they formed a heart. It just looked so...perfect on her dainty wrist, and Sam had to resist running his fingers over it.

He looked back at the others. Dean was standing very impatiently, arms crossed and tapping one foot on the floor. Bobby was leaning back in his chair, one arm on the desk, looking at him expectantly. Sam sighed.

“Alright.”

\------

“Aliens?” Dean asked for the millionth time.

“ _ Yes _ , Dean.”

“ _ Aliens _ ?”

“How many times do you want me to say it? This djinn had a twisted sense of humor. He took something she loves and made it a nightmare. Pretty much like that one Tuesday that the Trickster put me through.”

“But what made the cycle restart?” Bobby spoke up for the first time, “You weren’t clear on that.” Sam glanced away, unsure of how much Tara would want him to reveal. While he’d been talking, she’d calmed considerably and fallen back asleep. This time though, free of the djinn poison. Sam could feel her body temperature slowly dropping back to a safe level.

The way he looked at her tipped Dean off immediately.

“It was Dylan, wasn’t it?” Sam’s head shot up.

“How do you know his name?” Dean shrugged.

“I asked her about him way back in Concrete, after the wishing well case. She told me.”

“Did she tell you he took his own life?” The brief widening of Dean’s eyes told Sam that was news to him. Revealing that made Sam uncomfortable. He felt like he was betraying Tara’s trust, but it would’ve come out sooner or later.

“Oh.” Was all Dean could manage as a response.

“But it’s kind of a really sore subject for her, so–”

“Yep. Got it.” Dean looked down at Tara, and Sam became very aware of how he was holding her. He didn’t  _ think  _ Dean had an interest in her, but they were certainly close. Probably closer than Sam was with her. He had a feeling that the reason Dean had freaked out so bad when she was taken wasn’t just because he feared Bobby’s reaction when they gave him the news. The question was: were his feelings towards Tara more than platonic?

Bobby cleared his throat, making Sam start a bit.

“Well I’m gonna go fix something to eat. When she wakes up, she’ll probably be hungry.”

“Good idea. C’mon, Sam. Let’s go see if dad has anything about djinn with sick humor in his journal.”

“I’m gonna stay here with her.” Sam said quietly, “She had a tough time in there, and I don’t think she’d want to wake up alone.”

“Aww, Sammy has a crush!” Dean smirked.

“Shut up, no I don’t.” But Dean didn’t respond, he just followed Bobby out of the panic room laughing to himself. 

Sam rolled his eyes. Tara was a friend. A very funny, very attractive friend, but a friend nonetheless. An attractive friend he flirted with semi-regularly. After she’d started flirting with him. But a part of her was clearly still mourning Dylan, and he didn’t want to pressure her into something with him if she wasn’t ready. It also didn’t help that he was older than her. Sure, four years didn’t sound like a lot, but there was a big difference between 21 and 25.

He let his head fall against the wall and tightened his arms around her. Why did this have to be so complicated? In a way, it made him miss Ruby. Or, at least, the simplicity of it. He got laid, and then ganked demons afterwards. No strings attached–emotionally speaking.

Looking down at Tara, and the peaceful expression on her tear-stained face, Sam felt a tugging in his chest. Like maybe he wouldn’t mind attaching some strings if it meant being more than a friend to her. But that was a long ways off, Sam reminded himself, a part of her clearly still loved Dylan. And he wasn’t going to be the asshole who tried to make her move on so he could get in her pants that much faster. No, if they ever had something together, and that was a big  _ if _ , then it would be something that developed at Tara’s pace exclusively. 

\------

Tara became aware of herself slowly, like a very gentle fade-in at the beginning of an old movie. The first thing she became aware of was the warm body she was leaning against, followed by the muscled arms wrapped around her from behind. From the slightly woodsy musk, accompanied by the smell of old books, she knew it was Sam holding her.    
Then she became aware of just how firm his chest was.

She shifted a bit, trying to get more comfortable, but that just made her aware of how much her body ached. It seemed that her adventures on LV-426 had carried over to her physical body. Aside from feeling like her muscles had been subjected to a meat tenderizer, both her shoulders were throbbing, and so was the ankle she’d looped into the ladder. She must’ve made a noise, because Sam suddenly sat up straighter and moved his hands from where he’d had then clasped against her stomach.

“How are you feeling?”

“Horrible.” Came her small reply.

“Sounds about right. I think Bobby’s made you something, if you feel like eating.” Tara’s stomach rumbled at that and Sam huffed in amusement.

“Let’s get you upstairs then.” He turned them on the cot so their feet hit the floor. Tara grimaced as the impact jarred her ankle. Why was it always her ankle that got hurt? She bent forward and pulled up her pant leg. Already, a nice purple and black bruise had formed around the joint, but it didn’t look or feel sprained, twisted, or broken.

Tara sat back and shoved forward, using the momentum to stand. Sam stood right behind her, his hands hovering over her arms, ready to grab her if she collapsed. But she didn’t, and step by step, she made her way out of the panic room.

When they finally made it up the stairs, there was a steaming bowl of tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich waiting for her at the table. Bobby was doing the dishes, and Dean was sat across from Tara’s food, pouring over the tan leather journal she’d seen him and Sam go through countless times.

“There’s our Ripley!” Dean saw them first. Tara managed a weak smile and sat down, “So I think I figured out why this didn’t go down like a regular djinn hunt.” He lifted the journal and pointed to a particular passage.

“Why?”

“According to this, there is a bastard offshoot of djinn, one that feeds off fear. Their poison also, given time, will liquefy a person’s insides.”

“So that explains the fever.”

“Yeah. Freak musta been keeping the vics cold to slow the process.”

“But why? For fun?” Tara asked.

“I don’t think so.” Sam shook his head, “The longer he had you, the more additional blood you produced. Which means more food.”

“That’s sick. I wish I’d done more than just sneak up behind him. It’s a good thing they die like normal djinn, though, or we woulda been in a world ‘a hurt.” Sam scoffed.

“You can say that again.”

“But we all pulled through, right Hershey?” Dean reached across the table and slapped her shoulder. Pain shot down her arm and she cried out, dropping her grilled cheese back on it plate in favor of cradling the joint.

“Tara?” Bobby beat both Winchesters to her side and he gently lowered her hand, “Let me see.”

“It’s from the poison trip.” She explained, “There was a moment where I was hanging from bars and...someone was hanging from me.”

“Does this hurt?” Bobby applied pressure to a certain spot and the pain flared up again.

“Ah! Yes! That hurts!” Bobby ignored her exclamations of pain.

“And it’s in both shoulders?”

“Yes!” She jerked away before Bobby could press on her other one. 

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Dean asked. Bobby huffed.

“It’s hard to tell. It hurt to lift your arms over your head?” Tara gritted her teeth and lifted both arms. It was all fine, until her elbows got above her shoulders. She winced, and brought them back down.

“Yes. But what does that mean?”

“Hard to tell without an X-ray or MRI, but if I had to guess, you pulled something pretty bad.”

“Ok, how long until it’s better?”

“Depends on how bad it is.” Bobby straightened up, “But it’ll go faster if you’re not hunting.” Tara’s face fell.

“For how long? We need to get back on the road.” Dean pointed at the TV, “Possible vamp nest down in Kentucky. Whatever it is, they’ve racked up a body count high enough to make national news.” Tara looked back and forth between Sam and Dean.

“I’m coming with still, right? I can hang back at the hotel, strictly on research.” Sam bit his lip and looked at the ground.

“Right?” She looked at Dean, but he shook his head.

“Sorry, Hershey. But it’s  _ both _ your shoulders, not just one. You can’t risk making it worse.”

“But–”

“No. You’re young, you’ll bounce back fast.”

“B–”

“But not with us. With all the time we spend on the road...trust me. You’ll be better off here. I’m not tryin’ to get rid of you. Hell, that’s the last thing we want. But right now, it’s for the best.”

“You can join back up with us as soon as Bobby says you’re back to normal.” Sam promised, “And if we need lore, you’ll be our first call.” Tara bit her lip and looked down at the linoleum floor. She didn’t want them to leave, not when she was finally just starting to feel like she fit in with them, but she didn’t have much choice. She shoulder injuries would make her useless on an actual hunt, and she could research just as well from here as she could from a motel room.

“Alright.” She finally agreed glumly, “I’ll stay here.”

“Hey, don’t take it too hard.” Dean gave her a gentle hug, “While you’re healing, Bobby can tell you about some of the times we’ve been injured and had to be in time-out.” Tara managed to laugh a bit.

“Sounds good.”

While Tara finished eating her soup and sandwich, Bobby helped Sam and Dean get her stuff from the car and reload some of the stuff they’d gotten out since arriving. Before she knew it, the four of them were standing by the garage saying goodbye.

“See you soon, Hershey.” Dean gave her a loose hug, “Before you know it.”

“I hope so.” He stepped back and got in the car.

“Hey.” Sam was standing in front of her now, “Heal up fast, ok? Take it easy.”

“I will.” She had a bit of trouble keeping the disappointment out of her voice when he didn’t move to hug her.

“Can I ask,” He continued in a lower voice, reaching for her right hand with his left. Tara took it, and was surprised when he turned her hand over so he could see the inside of her wrist, “Is this for…”

“Yeah. He was a music comp major. I still have some of the stuff he composed for me.” She felt tears threatening again, “But I wanted something more.”

“It’s beautiful.” He gave in to the temptation and grazed the dark ink with his thumb, making Tara’s heart flutter, “And, if you ever need to talk…” Tara bit the inside of her cheek to keep more tears from forming.

“I will. Thanks.” Sam shuffled forward, his hand falling from hers, and reached out. Tara smiled and stepped closer, lifting her arms and pressing her hands into Sam’s back. Her shoulders weren’t thanking her for it, but when she inhaled his cologne, Tara found that she didn’t care.

Sam closed his eyes, relishing the feeling of her pressed up against him, but before he wanted to, he pulled back. Before Tara felt just how much he’d enjoyed the hug. 

“I’ll text you when we stop for the night.” Just him saying that made Tara’s expression brighten up as she watched Sam get in on the passenger side.

She and Bobby stood back as Dean fired up the engine. He used the garage to swing around, and then drove off; the back tires kicking up dust while he saluted out the window.

“I swear, that idjit is gonna get in a wreck so bad one day that even  _ he _ can’t fix that damn car.” Bobby shook his head. Tara couldn’t help but laugh. Maybe to others, it looked like Dean was a reckless driver, but Tara knew that Dean knew that car inside and out, and he knew what her limits were. Sure, he liked to push the speed limits, but he was never outright unsafe about it.

“Alright.” Bobby clapped his hands as soon as the Impala was out of sight, “Let’s get you set up with some ice packs and research.”

  
\------

That night was the first time Tara slept in an actual bedroom by herself at Bobby’s. He hadn’t heard any of her protests about sleeping on the sofa, or in the study on her air mattress. Instead, he insisted, on making up a bed for her in one of the guest rooms and by the time the sun rose, she was glad for it. Tara had tossed and turned all night; she’d always been a side sleeper, but now she couldn’t be on either side for long. Nor had she found much sleep lying on her back. She’d actually been awake at one thirty in the morning, despite turning the light off at ten, when Sam texted her to let her know they’d stopped for the night.

Pretty much the whole day, Bobby had had Tara icing both shoulders, twenty minutes on one followed by twenty on the other. It had helped a bit with the pain, and so did the Advil, but no amount of numbing or pain medication would substitute for time and taking it easy. Bobby had even surrendered his desk, giving her a better place to sit rather than leave her to slouch on the sofa.

While she’d been on the road with the Winchesters, she hadn’t been practicing her languages as much and it showed when Bobby put a Spanish text in front of her. But, after a couple refresher lessons, most of it was coming back.

Tara texted with Sam and Dean pretty much every day, whether it was to check in on how a hunt was going or Dean telling Tara something embarrassing that Sam had said or done. The case they’d left for down in Kentucky turned out to be a chupacabra that had developed a taste for human blood, not a vamp nest. They’d taken care of it and been back on the road in less than a day.

Sam often sent Tara pictures of famous and semi-famous locations they passed. Tara had let slip her desire to travel, and since then he’d send her a picture at every chance he got. Normally, a new one came every couple of days. Sometimes it was a building, but other times it was just a pretty landscape or sunset. Tara really appreciated his efforts to make her feel less isolated at Bobby’s.

Not that she felt isolated at all. Bobby was actually a very good housemate. Sure he drank a lot and kept odd hours, but he was quickly becoming a mentor and father figure to Tara. He’d even fixed up a car for her so she could go into town in something other than his own ancient vehicle. It was a little Toyota Camry, lime green in color. And sure sometimes it took a second for it to start, but the thing had a turn radius like Tara couldn’t believe.

Once her shoulders healed enough for her to drive, she went into town at least once a week for groceries. A couple of the cashiers knew her, and always made an effort to make conversation. One was an older woman and the other was a teenage boy. 

The older woman, Barbra was such a grandma; she always seemed to have a bowl of sweets at her register, and would sometimes wink and give Tara a discount on something. The guy was flirty. At first, he’d made Tara uncomfortable, but then she’d found out that he spoke to just about everyone that way.

Both cashiers had been surprised when Tara said she was living with Bobby. Apparently, he was a the town drunk/menace. She’d scrambled at first, finally managing to spit out that she was his niece. 

After being at Bobby’s for about five weeks, Dean called her fairly late at night. She hadn’t been asleep, she’d been in bed reading a library book that Barbra had checked out for her when the phone rang. Tara glanced at the page number before closing the book and answering.

“Hey Dean, what’s up?”

“We’re on a case in Magic Town and I just got goose-chased.” Dean sounded like he was about to puke.

“Uh, ok? Goose-chased where?”

“To a gay BDSM club.” Tara had to cover her mouth and muffle the phone in the comforter to keep Dean from hearing her hysterical laughter, “There–there was a guy there in...leather, a-and with a whip and he asked me what my safe word was. I just bailed.” Tara’s stomach was hurting because she was laughing so hard.

“And I know I can’t tell Sammy this, cause he’d just laugh and–” That only made Tara laugh harder, and she couldn’t keep quiet anymore.

“Come on!” She heard Dean shout, “You too?!” She had tears of laughter pouring down her face.

“I–I’m sorry, Dean.” She got out between breaths of laughter, “Who goose-chased you?”

“These two old magicians.” He grumbled, “We caught the case cause of some guy who dropped dead with a dozen stab wounds, but no tears in his clothes. We think one of the magicians is using real magic to get back at people who screwed him, or to take out the competition.”

“So I’m guessing the two guys that just goose-chased you have shot to the top of your suspect list?” She’d gotten her amusement under control, save for occasional bouts of giggling. Dean scoffed.

“Good guess.” Neither of them spoke for a moment, and Tara felt an increasing need to fill the silence.

“So...how are things? We haven’t really gotten a chance to actually talk.” Sure, she texted with both of them on a regular basis, and they called when they needed some lore, but otherwise, they hadn’t really caught up.

“Good. I mean, it’s not the same without you hunting with us,” Tara smiled at that, “But I think I’m finally starting to trust Sam again.”

“Did you not trust him before? Why?” She still didn’t know a lot about their past; only that they’d grown up hunting. She’d overheard bits and pieces back when she was a cat, references to the events of the past four years or so, but didn’t have the pieces to put it all together at the time. And while Bobby had been true to his word, telling her about all the times the boys had been injured badly enough to stop hunting for a bit, there were just some instances where he didn’t seem to tell her the whole story.

“Because of Ruby.” Dean chose every word carefully, “While I was in Hell, she had a bad influence on him, and even before that, he trusted her a lot more than I liked. And when I first got back, I found out that he’d kept some important things to himself and...I didn’t know what to think.”

“You mean the psychic powers he used on Samhain?”

“Yeah. We were both told that the angels don’t want him using his powers. And since then, he hasn’t. Haven’t even heard him mention Ruby since the stuff with Anna. So yeah, I’m starting to fully trust him again.”

“That’s good.” She wasn’t sure what else to reply with, “Bobby said you didn’t want Sam going into my head, when I was under the djinn poison. Was it because you didn’t trust him?”

“No, hell no. I didn’t want him risking his life when I thought I could find another way. And I wasn’t sure you wanted him to know about Dylan, cause I was sure he was a part of your dream world in some way.” Tara sniffed a bit.

“Yeah, you got that right. But I’m glad I don’t have to keep it a secret anymore.” She wiped a tear away from her eye.

“You wanna talk about it?” Dean heard her trying to keep her voice steady.

“Not really, it’s just...it was his birthday last week. He would’ve been twenty. It’s just...hard to think about. But I took the day off, watched  _ Iron Man _ . They say the first year is the hardest, right?”

“First off, that’s bullshit. Stuff like that  _ always _ hurts. And second, did you say twenty?”

“Uh-huh. Why?” It was Dean struggling to contain laughter now.

“Why Hershey, robbing the cradle much? I don’t know how I’m gonna break it to Sammy that you prefer younger men.”

“You–shut up!” Her outburst only made Dean burst out laughing.

“Oh, that was too easy. Listen, I’m back at the hotel so I gotta go, but I’ll call you when we’re done with the case and tell you about Sammy’s magician phase, deal?” Tara grinned.

“Deal. Stay safe.”

“Now where’s the fun in that?” Dean hung up and Tara laughed to herself. He had a point.

\------

Her phone rang again in the middle of the night, the shrill tune waking her with a start. Tara squinted at the bright screen, trying to make her eyes adjust so she could see who was calling. It was an unknown number. She  _ hated _ answering unknown numbers. But she flipped her phone open anyway.

“Hello?” She tried to clear the grogginess out of her voice.

“Hey, Tara.” The voice on the other end said guiltily. Tara sat up and turned on the bedside lamp.

“Bobby? What’s going on?” She slid out of bed, wincing as her feet came into contact with the cold wood floor. 

“I need some help.”

“Alright, where are you?” Tara threw a robe on over her nightgown and opened her bedroom door. Bobby’s house was great, but it could be a little drafty on these cold winter nights. She didn’t see a light on under Bobby’s door, or downstairs for that matter.

“Sioux Falls police station.” Bobby muttered like a scolded child, “Would the best niece in the world come give me a ride home?” Tara froze on her way down the stairs.

“Did you get arrested?! I thought you were just going out for a drink.”

“Yeah. A drink. Or...a dozen.” Tara dragged her free hand down her face.

“Damnit, Bobby.”

“Don’t you pull that Winchester tone with me!” He snapped. Then he seemed to remember that he needed her help, “Sorry.” Tara groaned and sank down on the stairs.

“It’s fine. I’ll come get you.”

“Thanks, Tara.” The call ended and Tara sighed, bending until her forehead hit her knees. So much for getting eight hours of sleep tonight.

Half an hour later, she pulled up outside the police station. Despite it being three thirty in the morning, it was bustling with activity. All the lights were on inside and there were a few cops milling around one of the squad cars with cigarettes. All their eyes turned to Tara when she pulled into the visitor’s parking and got out. She didn’t like the way a couple of them were leering at her, but she ignored them and went straight inside. 

The florescent lights made her blink a few times as she headed to the security desk. There were two people there, one sitting watching the security feeds and the other leaning against the desk. She was dressed in a tan uniform with dark brown hair that fell almost to her shoulders. When the door closed behind Tara, both women stopped talking and looked up.

“H-hi.” It’s a good thing she wasn’t trying to pass as FBI right now, “I’m here to get my uncle? His name’s Bobby Singer.”

“And that would make you Tara.” The standing woman reached out a hand, “Sheriff Jody Mills.” Her handshake was firm, but her eyes were kind.

“Come on back, we’ve got him in holding.”

Jody led her through the office part of the station, where a few officers were sitting at their desks typing up reports. One or two of them glanced up when she and Sheriff Mills walked by. And was it Tara’s imagination, or did one of them whisper to the person next to him asking if she was really Bobby’s niece?

Jody led Tara through a pair of double doors at the back of the room, and the office setting gave way to cement halls and barred cells. A few of them had occupants, but most were empty. Bobby was the only person who was awake, sitting glumly on the bench in his cell. When Sheriff Mills stopped in front of his door, he looked up.

“Hey, Tara.” He managed a small smile.

“Uncle Bobby. You ready to go home or should I let you rot here some more?” Sheriff Mills choked a bit at the sudden attitude and fought to maintain her professionally neutral expression. Bobby stood up.

“I’m ready to go home.” Tara was half-expecting him to take a jab at her or the sheriff, but he just stood there quietly while Sheriff Mills unlocked the door. It slid open with a creak and a clang and Bobby stepped out.

“Come on, then. I don’t got the rest of my life.”  _ There  _ it was. The tough grizzly bear grouchiness. It was smart of him to wait until he’d been let out, Tara reflected as she followed him back towards the entrance. She felt the eyes of the officers at their desks following her and Bobby, but she paid them no heed. When they got back to the security desk, Bobby walked right out the door.

“Hey, Tara.” Sheriff Mills placed a hand on her shoulder until Tara turned to face her. Her shoulders had healed enough by now that they only really bugged her if she tried to lift something heavy over her head, “He gives you trouble at home, I want to to call me.” She handed her a business card with her contact information on it.

“Thanks, Sheriff Mills.”

“When I’m not here, it’s Jody to anyone who can stand to live with Bobby Singer.” Tara cracked a smile. She had no idea how easy it really was.

  
  



	22. Sex and Violence

Dean called a couple days later around lunch to give her the skinny on how the magician case had turned out. It was much sadder than she’d expected; they’d done the right thing, objectively speaking, but an old man had been robbed of his two best friends when the three of them could have been immortal together. This time, Tara was glad she’d been at Bobby’s. He’d also filled her in on the magician phase Sam went through as a tween, right down to the cheesy card tricks.

Later that day, Tara texted Sam about it.

_ Tara: Hey, so I hear you know some magic tricks... _

_ Sam: Where’s this coming from?  _ He played dumb.

_ Tara: Maybe some you learned, say, fourteen years ago or so? _

_ Sam: That jerk. _

_ Sam: I wasn’t even a teenager yet. _

_ Sam: I wanted there to be something I was better at than Dean. _

_ Tara: *laughing face* chill out, no need to get so defensive. Sorry, I didn’t realize it was such a sore spot. _

_ Sam: No, you’re good. He just loves to give me a hard time about it.  _

_ Tara: I actually think it’s kinda cool. One of my friends back at school knew some crazy insane card tricks. None of us could figure out how he did some of them, and no matter how much we bugged him, he’d never show us. _

_ Sam: I’m afraid I won’t live up to your friend, I haven’t tried to do one of those tricks in years. _

_ Tara: Well, I can’t exactly judge; I don’t know any. _

_ Sam: Yeah, but you’re cute so you get a pass. _

Sam’s heart plummeted when Tara didn’t respond for a couple minutes. He could see that she’d read it, but she wasn’t even typing. Had that been the wrong thing to say? Or did Tara have that adorable blush on her cheeks as she tried to think up a response? Her lack of response gave him no cue about whether to send a second text toning the flirting down.

“I hate this.” Sam muttered.

“What do you hate?” He jumped. Dean had come up behind him with their food, already chewing a mouthful of burger. He pushed Sam’s computer over to make room for the salad he’d ordered. 

“Nothing.” Sam tucked his phone away before Dean could grab it, “I think I found us a case, though.”

“Alright.” Dean was displeased that he hadn’t been able to make out what was on Sam’s screen before he put his phone away, “What?”

“This girl, April, swirlies another to death in the bathroom at Truman High in Fairfax, Indiana, but claims she was possessed while she was doing it. She got put in a mental hospital.”

“Probably possession, then.” Dean said immediately, chugging his beer, “We’ll eat and then we’ll hit the road.” Sam nodded and dug into his salad, but in the back of his mind, he was very aware that Tara still hadn’t responded to his text.

Tara had been sitting at the kitchen table, nibbling on her lower lip debating about how to respond to Sam’s overt flirtation when Bobby walked into the kitchen. These past couple days, he’d been avoiding her seemingly as much as possible. Ever since she’d bailed him out.

The drive home had been in complete silence. Tara was exhausted from having been woken in the middle of the night, and also astounded that Bobby had gotten himself arrested. When they got back, she hadn’t even put her car in the garage, but left it out front and gone right back to bed. 

The next morning, Bobby hadn’t met her eye once, like he was trying to pretend that it didn’t happen. And Tara was fine with that. At first. By the time the afternoon rolled around, she was getting a little annoyed. She’d hoped that today would be different. This was the first time Bobby had walked into a room that she was in. He didn’t really acknowledge her, he just went to the stove where the stuffed shells she’d made for dinner were sitting. 

Tara waited, her eyes flicking up from her phone every few seconds, as she watched him serve himself a few, plus a garlic knot from the toaster oven. When he turned around, she looked back at her phone, pretending to try and find a way to respond to Sam again. 

_ Tara: Aww, really? *blushing face*. _ She deleted it. Too insecure.

_ Tara: Why thank you.  _ Backspace. Too vain. Why was this so hard over text?! She had zero cues on his tone or facial expression, that’s what. It was hard to tell if he was just jokingly calling her cute or if he actually found her attractive.

“These are really good.” Tara started when Bobby broke the two-day silence. She smiled.

“I’m glad you like them.” He was normally fairly complementary about her cooking–probably because he hadn’t had to make it himself and it wasn’t just microwaved or boiled–but it was always nice to hear kind words. But that didn’t change the fact that she was slightly upset at Bobby.

He must’ve picked up on it, because he sighed and put his fork down.

“I suppose you’d like an explanation for...a couple nights ago.” Tara stopped trying to come up with a response to Sam and put her phone down.

“You mean would I like to know why I was woken up at three in the morning to bail you out of jail? A situation, I might add, by the looks I got from the other officers there, you find yourself in more than the average person. So yeah, I’d like to know why the Sheriff of Sioux Falls gave me her private number in case you ever got to be too much.”

“Jody gave you her number?” Tara just cocked an eyebrow, sat back, crossed her arms, and waited. She wasn’t going to let him change the subject or redirect the conversation. Clearly, something on her face said that, because Bobby took one look at her and completely deflated.

“Alright.”

\------

He told her everything. Everything the boys knew, and a little more. That he’d been married, and his wife getting possessed was his introduction to the supernatural. And that Rufus had been the one to exorcise the demon and make sure Bobby didn’t go to prison.

“If you’re in this life long enough, you’ll meet him. Real piece ‘a work, but a damn good hunter. Anyway, I was out because that night would’ve been our anniversary. See, most days I can handle...it...”

“But sometimes it’s too much.” Tara finished, her eyes cloudy, “And the pain doesn’t go away no matter how hard you try.”

“Yep.” Bobby pushed one of the shells around in a circle on his plate, “I got a little rowdy when the bartender tried to cut me off. Done that, and worse, a few times he just called the cops right off.”

“And instead of spending the night in jail, you used your phone call to call me.”

“Yep. I don’t even know why. I’ve spent enough time in that cell, what’s one more night, y’know? I guess now that you’re living here for the time being, I thought I’d ask a favor.” Tara nodded slowly. She understood why he did it, both calling her and drinking in the first place, but that didn’t mean she had to like it. Still, it was nice to know that Bobby trusted her enough to tell her this.

“Thanks for telling me. I’m not sure how I feel about your familiarity with jail, but I guess so long as I’m living here, and it’s not too often, if you land there I’ll come bail you out.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Bobby raised the shot of whiskey he’d poured himself as some point, “Now are we done dredging up our tragic backstories? You owe Sam a response.”

“How did you–”

“Please. I’m old, not blind. You only get that dopey smile on your face when you’re texting him.” Tara blushed heavily, and wanted to deny it, but she knew that would only make things worse.

Sam and Dean were driving over to Truman high from the mental hospital when his phone chirped. It was a text from Tara.

_ Tara: I guess I’ll have to give you a pass on the same grounds then. _

Sam closed his phone as soon as he read her message, not wanting Dean to see it. But he couldn’t help the warmth that built up in his chest. Maybe this could go somewhere.

\------

Two weeks later, when Tara was finally able to do pushups and lift her arms straight up over her head without any discomfort, Bobby finally declared her fit to rejoin the Winchesters. Her being able to bulls-eye a sandbag from twenty yards probably had something to do with it too. As soon as Bobby told her, Tara squealed, jumped in a circle, and threw her arms around him.

“Thank you!” She bounced over to the sofa and picked up her phone, dialing Dean. She’d spoken with Sam last week, and she didn’t want to make it seem like she was...too interested. They were in Idaho, hunting down some of Lillith’s top lieutenants.

“Heya, Hershey!” Dean was nearly shouting over the noise in the background. She could hear music and people shouting. In fact, Dean sounded a little tipsy himself, “Hang on lemme find Sammy or he’s gonna be jealous you called me and not him.”

“Dean.” Tara rolled her eyes.

“No, no! He’s right here.” Dean got harder to hear as he took the phone away from his ear, “You’re on speaker!”

“Who is that?” She heard Sam ask.

“It’s Tara.” She said loudly, “And guess what!”

“What?” Dean slurred a bit.

“Bobby’s declared me fit for hunting! So if you guys are passing through here from Idaho, I can join you!” There was a silence on the other end, save for the din of whatever bar or strip club they were in, long enough for her to wonder if they’d heard her.

“That–that’s great, Tara.” So why didn’t Sam sound happy?

“But?”

“But we’re down in New Orleans now. The demon from Idaho led us here.” Tara’s smile fell.

“Oh. Well, I could drive down and ho–meet you.” Her heart leapt to her throat as she managed to keep from saying ‘hook up’.

“Sorry, Hershey.” Dean had sobered up a bit, “By the time you got here, we’ll be long gone. It’s party tonight, hunt the demon tomorrow. By the way, have you ever been to Mardi Gras? It’s awesome.” Her jaw dropped and she looked at the calendar.

“You’re in  _ New Orleans _ on  _ Mardi Gras _ ?!” She was turning green with envy.

“Yeah.” Sam admitted, “I’ll send you some pictures.” Tara bit her lip to keep from smiling too much.

“Sounds good. Maybe after that demon hunt you let me know where you’ll be next?”

“Uh-huh, sure th–Dean! Dean, stop! I’m sorry Tara, I have to go.”

“Ok, text me after–” The line went dead. Tara pulled the phone away from her ear, “Goodbye to you too.” She flipped it shut a little harder than she meant to. And sighed.

“Bad news?” Bobby looked up from his desk where he’d sat down.

“Sorry, Bobby. It looks like you’re gonna be stuck with me a little while longer.”

\------

It wasn’t until Friday that Tara and Bobby heard from either Winchester as to where they were. On Wednesday night, Dean had sent a brief text that the demon hunt hadn’t panned out like they’d hoped. The bastard had gotten away leaving nothing but a pile of bodies in its wake. At the time, Sam and Dean weren’t sure where they were going to go next, they were just going to come back to Bobby’s and save Tara the drive out to them.

They were due back early tomorrow.

It was late, after dark, and Tara had just gotten back from the store. If the boys got in early tomorrow, she’d realized over dinner, she wouldn’t have time to restock the kitchen. Bobby was hunched over an old book at his desk; he’d been researching something obscure in Mandarin for Rufus Turner when she left. And while Tara’s language skills were better than ever, she wasn’t quite there yet.

“Find anything?” She asked as she started putting the food away. 

“For Rufus? No. Sam called, through.” Tara perked up.

“Where are they?”

“Bedford, Iowa, on a case. A bunch ‘a men killed their wives because a stripper asked them to.”

“Wait, seriously? Over a stripper? So what are they dealing with?”

“My best guess, from the way the men described the strippers? A siren.”

“Siren? Like a mermaid?”

“Not quite. They got associated with them cause back in the day, they used to set up shop on the coast, make sailors dash themselves to pieces.”

“Lovely.” Tara rushed to put the rest of the food away. When she finished, she grabbed her coat.

“I’ll call you when I get there.”

“Woah, hold up now. Get where?”

“Bedford. It’s not that far of a drive.”

“Tara, how long have you been up? Since 7 this morning? It’s nearly midnight. By the time you get to Bedford you’ll be running on empty. I think I found a way to kill the siren, but I’ll need to go get a bronze dagger. Then you can bring it to the boys and finish putting it together.” Tara stopped, her fingers inches from the door handle. Maybe Bobby was right. Maybe it would be better to get a good night’s sleep, actually sleep in for once, and then get down to Bedford with the weapon in the evening. Plus, Bobby had put up with her while she was healing. She really hadn’t been in a good mood the first week or two.

Her hand fell back to her side.

“Alright. I’ll stay.”

“Thank you, Tara.” 

\------

The entire time she’d lived at Bobby’s, she’d seen him answer all the different phones on the wall in the kitchen. Never had she heard one ring when he was out or sleeping. But this morning, he hadn’t been gone for five minutes when the FBI phone rang loudly. 

Tara gulped. Should she just let it go to voicemail? No. No, she couldn’t do that. Some hunter probably needed help getting access to a crime scene or records or something. She got up off the sofa and went to the phone. Her heart was pounding at the thought of doing this. She had no idea what she was going to say. But she couldn’t let whoever was on the other end know that. 

Tara picked up the phone.

“FBI, Assistant Director Kaiser’s office how may I help you?”

“Uh, yeah. Assistant Director Kaiser, please.” It was a male voice on the other end. Tara gripped the phone tighter.

“He’s in an important meeting at the moment. This is his secretary. May I take a message?” It took everything she had to minimize the trembling in her voice.

“This is Agent Nick Monroe, and I would really appreciate a moment of Director Kaiser’s time.” Tara clenched her jaw at his patronizing tone.

“Look,  _ Agent _ , he is in an important meeting at the moment. Now this can happen one of two ways. You can call back in a couple hours when he is available, or you can give me a message and if it’s important enough, I can take it to him now.” Agent Monroe cleared his throat uncomfortably.

“I’m calling about two of Director Kaiser’s men–Styles and Murdock?” Tara had to suppress a gasp. Those were aliases Sam and Dean used! “It seems that they’ve been put on my case by mistake and I’d just like to clear the matter up with him.” Any thought Tara had of telling him to call back vaporized with his closing statement.

“I can clear this up for you, Agent. Styles and Murdock were put on that case by Director Kaiser yesterday. And, correct me if I’m wrong, but Washington D.C. has jurisdiction over–what office did you say you were from?”

“Uh, Omaha.”

“So. The way I see it, you’ve got two options again. You can take my word for it that our two best agents have been put on your case, or you can call back in two hours and have Director Kaiser tell you the same thing. I’ll have you know that it is not in your best interest to question his authority, or to waste his time. Your call.” She slammed the phone back on the receiver. 

Sam and Dean watched not-so-discretely as Agent Monroe lowered his phone slowly from his ear and walked back over to them.

“Well, I’m sorry guys.”

“Just don’t let it happen again.”

“Not likely. That secretary of his is a real firecracker, huh?” Sam and Dean shared a look. He had to be talking about Tara. Sam smirked.

“That’s one way of putting it.”

\------

Bobby got back about an hour later with the bronze dagger he’d gone out for. Apparently, finding a shop that carried it was a real bitch. When he returned, Tara was in the middle of making sure she had everything she needed packed. The air mattress and sheets, her clothes and other essentials, and her gun. While she finished that up, she filled Bobby in on the call she’d taken.

“It was a real FBI agent calling?”

“Yeah.”

“You run his name and badge number with the real FBI?” Tara felt like an idiot.

“No.” Why had it never occurred to her that the guy could also be a fake fed? Bobby whipped out his cell and make a call.

“Name?” He asked while it was ringing.

“Nick Monroe, from Omaha.”

Less than a minute later, Bobby slammed his phone shut.

“Damnit.” He went straight for his go-bag.

“What?”

“Agent Nick Monroe is just about as real as Agents Styles and Murdock. Whoever it is, Sam and Dean are in real trouble. Come on, we’re taking my car.”

Bobby surpassed every speed limit on the four-hour drive, and he only went faster after a missed call from Dean. Apparently, the siren had managed to get Sam under her spell. They tried to call Dean as soon as they got the message, but he didn’t answer. Neither did Sam.

“How far out are we?” Tara asked as Bobby put his floored it.

“Too far. Their phones have the GPS turned on. Find them.”

Forty five minutes later, they pulled up outside Lion’s Pride motel. It was a series of buildings, and the Winchesters were staying in one of the smaller ones. The Impala was in the parking lot, and the GPS put both Sam and Dean here. Tara was getting out before Bobby had come to a complete stop, after making sure the bronze dagger Bobby had procured was safely in her jacket pocket. 

She sprinted full-tilt into the building with Bobby on her heels. She looked down the left hall, and then down the right. At first, there was no indication of which room the boys were in, until there was the unmistakable sound of glass shattering.

“Come on.” Bobby took the lead, going to the right and around the corner just in time to see Dean raise an axe over his head. Sam was on the ground, a bruise already forming on one cheekbone. There was another man there too, just watching the whole thing with amusement on his face. 

“No!” Tara shouted when she saw Dean about to strike Sam down. Bobby grabbed the axe with both hands just as Dean began the downward swing. Tara yanked the bronze dagger from within her jacket and stabbed Dean in the shoulder just enough to get blood on the tip while he wrestled Bobby for the axe back. All amusement vanished from the siren’s face when Tara turned to him. He ran, and she jumped over Sam to pursue him.

“No!” Sam cried, “No!” The siren was faster than her, using his longer legs to head towards the fire escape. In an act of desperation and blind faith, Tara hurled the dagger at him. It sailed through the air, going blade over hilt before impaling the siren dead center in the back. He stopped running, stumbling against the wall. For a moment, he stared at his reflection in a mirror before finally collapsing. Bobby took a couple steps towards her, double checking that the siren was dead and Tara turned back to the Winchesters.

Sam had sat up, propping himself against the wall while Dean was staring at the dead body, grasping the shoulder Tara had stabbed with his opposite hand. But that seemed to be more reflexive than anything.

“You guys good?” Tara asked, afraid that they still might be feeling the aftereffects of the siren’s song.

“Yeah.” Sam gave a brisk nod, “We’re good.”

\------

The four of them cleaned up the mess from the fight as best they could. There was nothing to be done about the broken-down door or the shattered glass, but they wiped their prints and put the room itself back in order before going to the other side of the (admittedly small) town. By then, the sun had risen behind a veil of clouds.

They’d parked near the docks down by the river, which were completely deserted given that it was a Sunday morning. Bobby grabbed a couple sodas from his cooler for Sam and Dean and Tara got the orange juice she’d tossed in for herself.

“Soda?” Dean complained.

“You boys are drivin’, ain’t ya?” Bobby challenged. Tara was leaning on the car next to him, and hid her smirk behind her orange juice when Dean backed down.

“Thanks, Bobby. You too Tara.” Sam said, “You know, if yous guys hadn’t shown up when you did–”

“Done the same for me.” Bobby cut him off, “More than once.”

“Of course, it wouldn’t have hurt to answer the phone.” Tara added.

“Yep. Only took one call to figure out that Agent Nick Monroe wasn’t real.” The brothers both grimaced, and rightly so. Dean took another swig of his soda.

“You boys gonna be ok?”

“Yeah, fine.”

“Yeah, good.” They said immediately.

“Good. Because Tara’s back in the game now. And if she gets caught in the crossfire of one of your fights, you’re gonna answer to me.” Sam brightened up considerably when he realized that Tara would be coming with them. 

“Well there’s some good news.” Dean grinned, burying all his anger at Sam for a moment, “Let’s get your stuff in the trunk.” He popped it, and began shoving his and Sam’s stuff over to make room for Tara’s. She didn’t have much more than them; the bag that held the air mattress, plus a large duffel bag for her clothes and other essentials, and her backpack for lore books and Frodo. As soon as her things were re-integrated into the Impala, Bobby gave her a hug.

“They give you trouble, you make sure to let me know.”

“I will. Thanks.” She pulled back and Bobby saluted Sam and Dean.

“See ya.” He went to get into his car, but at the last moment thought to say one more thing, “You know, those sirens are nasty things. That it got to you–that’s no reason to feel bad.” Any joy the Winchesters were feeling at having Tara back drained out of them. Sam pursed his lips and nodded in agreement, but in his head he kept going over all the hurtful words that they’d both thrown at each other. In many ways, that hurt worse than his cheekbone or the cut on his neck. 

Tara watched as Bobby drove off, the rusty green car rumbling back onto the road and out of sight. She was surprised to note that she was going to miss being at Bobby’s.

“You gonna say goodbye to Cara?” Tara cocked her head. Who was Cara?

“Nah.” Sam couldn’t help the embarrassment that flared up when Dean mentioned her, “Not interested.”

“Really? Why not?” Dean pressed.

“What’s the point?” He needed to find a way to change the topic  _ now _ .

“Well look at you. Love ‘em and leave ‘em.” Tara felt like a glass of ice water had been poured on her. She’d been looking forward to being back on the road with them, and she knew Dean had no trouble going out and hooking up, but in all her time with them, she’d never seen Sam do it. But maybe she’d read him wrong. 

“Dean, look. You know I didn’t mean the things I said back there, right? That it was just the siren’s spell talking.” His awkward subject-change came too late. Sam was all-too-aware of the way Tara subtly scooted back half an inch to a more respectable distance when Dean mentioned his tryst with the doctor.

“Of course, me too.” Dean didn’t want to be having this conversation.

“So we’re good?”

“Yeah, we’re good.” He walked around the front of the car, signalling that he was ready to go. Sam got in the passenger side door, but not before opening Tara’s door for her.

“Thanks.” She couldn’t help the butterflies in her stomach when Sam gave her that little smile. But now they left a sour taste in her mouth. She’d thought that being with them again would give her a more accurate read on whether Sam was actually interested in her or not. But now she was more confused than ever.


	23. Death Takes a Holiday

Things between Sam and Dean were more than a little tense over the next couple days. They never argued or fought openly, but Tara saw it in the way Dean would slowly close his eyes in annoyance when Sam wasn’t looking, and in the way Sam clenched his jaw when Dean’s back was turned. The tension between them was so thick Tara felt like she could cut it with a spoon. But she didn’t. Instead, she took a page out their the Winchester playbook and ignored it as best she could.

They’d finished an easy salt and burn last night, and now they were refueling at a diner a few towns over. Dean was messing with the jukebox, which was refusing to do anything but eat quarters, while Tara and Sam sat quietly on their computers. Right as the waiter put Tara’s panini in front of her, her phone rang.

“Hey, Bobby!”

“How’s things?” He asked. Tara glanced up at Dean, and then at Sam. Her heart did a flip when her eyes met his, but she still managed an answer.

“Pretty good. What’s up?”

“Put me on speaker, I think I’ve got a case for you.” Tara did and he asked and set the phone on the table between her and Sam.

“Hi, Bobby.” Sam said.

“Go check out the headline for the Greybull Gazette.” Tara entered the name into her search engine and pulled up the first result.

“This–this can’t be possible, can it?” She asked after skimming the article.

“Sure looks weird to me. Figured you three could check it out.”

“No, no. You’re right, it’s definitely weird.” Tara picked her phone back up and took him off speaker.

“Thanks, Bobby.” She hung up and Dean slunk back over, eight quarters short of what he had when he left the table and no tunes to speak of.

“What’s up?” He sat down next to Tara and picked up his burger.

“Bobby found something in Wyoming.” Sam continued to look through the paper but Tara closed her laptop and dug into her own meal.

“A job?” 

“Maybe. Small town, no one’s died in the past week and a half.”

“That so unusual?”

“It’s  _ how _ they’re not dying.” Sam clarified, “One guy with terminal cancer strolls right outta hospice, another guy gets capped by a mugger and walks away without a scratch.”

“Capped in the ass?” 

“‘Police say Mr. Jenkins was shot in the heart at point-blank range by a 9mm.’” He quoted te article.

“And he’s not a doughnut?” Dean finally put down his burger in favor of some fries.

“Locals are saying it’s a miracle.”

“Ok.” He said with his mouth full.

“But what could do something like this?” Tara asked.

“It’s gotta be something nasty, right? I mean, people making deals or something.”

“You think?”

“What else  _ would _ it be?”

“I dunno.”

“Alright.” Sam packed away his things, “Get those to-go.” He nodded at Tara and Dean’s food. Tara pouted a bit. So much for having a quiet meal to refuel. Sam was already standing up, but Dean was outwardly sulking just as much as she was on the inside.

“What?” Sam asked when he saw Dean’s face.

“Sure you want me going with you?” Uh-oh. Tara shrank down a bit in her seat and sipped at her lemonade.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“I dunno, I don’t wanna be holding you back or nothing.” He took another bite. Sam rolled his eyes.

“Dude, I’ve told you a hundred times, that was the siren talking, not me. Can we get past this?” Tara scooted out of her seat and over to the counter for a to-go box. By the time she got back with them, the fight was over, but the tension had increased exponentially.

\------

“Are you sure he’s gonna buy this?” Tara asked for the dozenth time as the Impala pulled up outside the light pink house.

“Yep.” Dean said, “You’d be surprised how stupid people can be.” 

“Now you guys said you were bloggers?” Sure enough, Jim had let them into his house with almost no questions asked and had them sit down at the kitchen table.

“Yes, sir. With flooredbythelord.com.” Sam responded easily.

“All of God’s glory fit to blog.” Dean nudged Tara under the table, telling her to take the lead.

“Um–” God, that was too awkward. How was it that she could tell off an (admittedly fake) FBI agent over the phone, and she couldn’t get out a single word with this guy?

“Some of the people around town are saying what happened to you was a miracle.” She finally said. Even to her, the words felt rushed, but Jim didn’t seem to notice.

“It was, plain as day.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“How else to explain it? The doctors can’t. There’s a bullet in my heart and it’s pumping like a piston.”

“Well how do  _ you _ explain it?” Dean rephrased the question. Jim was silent, and he looked into the next room where his daughter was.

“Look, honestly I was nobody’s saint; not exactly father of the year either.” The three of them nodded along, “But when that guy shot me and I didn’t bleed a drop? I just knew the Lord was giving me a second chance.”

“Is that so?” Tara couldn’t help the tinge of bitterness in her voice. Sam shot her a look out of the corner of his eye.

“I had this feeling, like angels were watching over me. I wouldn’t expect you guys to understand.” 

“Well, we’ll just have to try.”

“You wouldn’t have happened to have swung by a crossroads in the past week or so?”

“No.” Tara narrowed her eyes. She couldn’t tell if Jim was lying or if he was just suspicious.

“Maybe you met someone? With black eyes? Or red?”

“Who’d you guys say you were again?” Suspicious it was.

“Never mind. Thank you for your time.” They left quickly after that.

\------

Dean went back to the motel while Sam and Tara went to see the cancer survivor. He and his wife were picture-perfect together. The way they looked at each other, it was so easy to see how in love they still were even after being together for so long. Once, Tara had wanted that with Dylan. And now...now she wasn’t sure what she wanted. For the near future, she would be hunting with the Winchesters, yes, but her distant future would be in limbo until they eliminated Riley, and she hated that.

“Hey.” Sam reached over and placed a hand on her jean-clad thigh. He’d parked the Impala back at the motel, but Tara hadn’t reacted at all. The whole drive back, she’d been staring out the window with a distant look in her eyes. She inhaled sharply as his contact brought her back to the present.

“Yeah?” 

“We’re back at the motel.”

“Oh. Right, sorry.” She promptly got out of the car, mourning the loss of Sam’s hand on her thigh. Sam closed his eyes and exhaled slowly as the warm denim slid out from under his fingers, leaving them to land on the leather seat. But now wasn’t the time for that. They had a case to work.

Dean was sitting at the desk in the motel room when they walked in, reading something on Sam’s laptop.

“Anything?” 

“That cancer survivor? He was clinically dead–his wife pulled the plug–and now he’s taking her out for their 20th anniversary.”

“Any sign of a deal?”

“Nope.” Tara shook her head, “What about you? Find anyone dying around here?”

“Not since Cole Griffith.” He turned the computer towards them, “He dropped ten days ago. It was the last death I could find.” He enlarged the picture of a young boy.

“So what are you thinking?”

“Maybe it’s what people say it is.” Sam scoffed.

“Miracles? Dean, in our experience, when do miracles just  _ happen _ ?” 

“Well there’s no deals.” Dean went to pour himself a cup of coffee, “There’s no skeevy faith healers. I mean, these souls just ain’t getting dragged into the light.”

“Maybe cause there’s no one around to carry them.”

“What do you mean?” Tara leaned on the desk.

“Well, grim reapers, that’s what they do, right? Schlepp souls?” Sam checked his theory with Dean, “So if death ain’t in town–”

“Then nobody’s dying.” It made sense, “So what, the local reaper’s in strike? Playing the back nine?”

“Hold up.” Tara waved an arm, “Reapers?” The brothers shared a look.

“Right. So normally, reapers aren’t really a problem. Someone dies, they take the soul up or down. They’re totally invisible unless you’re dead or close to it, but they’re not in the business of killing people–well, unless someone’s controlling them–so that’s probably why Bobby never told you about them.” Sam explained.

“Ok. So how can we find out if the reaper’s gone if no one living can see it?”

“We talk to the last person we know they interacted with.” Sam turned the computer around.

“The kid? He’s a doornail.” Dean pointed out.

“Exactly. Last person to die around here, maybe he saw something. We should talk to him.” Dean chuckled.

“I love how matter-of-fact you are about that. Strange lives.”

\------

They waited until the dead of night to go to the cemetery. There was still a fair amount of snow on the ground in this part of Wyoming, and Tara dreaded to think about what it would be like to try and dig through. Fortunately, they didn’t have to. While she and Sam finished setting up the séance, Dean paged through their father’s journal to find the right incantation.

“Are you sure this is gonna work?” Dean tried to keep himself from shivering. He should’ve worn a heavier jacket.

“No.” Sam confessed, “But if his spirit’s around, this should smoke him out.” Dean flipped the journal shut, “What?”

“This job is jacked, that’s what.”

“How so?”

“You want me to gank a monster or torch a corpse, hey, let’s light it up, right? B-but this? If we fix whatever this is, people are gonna start dropping dead. Good people.” Tara bit her lip. He had a point.

“Look, I don’t want them to die either, Dean, but there’s a natural order.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“What?”

“You don’t see the irony in that? I mean, you and me, we’re like the poster guys–and Tara you too since that coin case–of the unnatural order. All we do is ditch death.”

“Yeah, but the normal rules don’t exactly apply to us, do they?”

“Sam, that was dangerously arrogant.” Tara shook her head, and Dean pointed at her in agreement.

“We’re no different than anybody else.” Ok, that wasn’t quite right either, and Sam was quick to call him out on it.

“I’m infected with demon blood. You’ve been to Hell, and Tara got turned into a cat for two months. Look, I know you wanna think of yourself as Joe the Plumber, Dean, but you’re not. And neither am I. The sooner you accept that, the better off you’re gonna be.” Tara stayed frozen where she was, crouched next to the stuff for the séance.

“Joe the Plumber was a douche.” Dean deflected.

“You gonna help us finish this?” Sam gestured to the nearly-set up sigils. Dean made a face, but slid off the gravestone he’d been sitting on.

“Hey!” A male voice shouted at them. Tara’s heart stopped in her chest she straightened up. The muscles in her legs burned after being in a crouch for so long, but she was too terrified to notice. She was greeted by a flashlight in her eyes, courtesy of a large man approaching the end of middle age.

“What are you doing here?” He demanded.

“Uh...just...take it easy.” Sam stuttered.

“What the hell is this?”

“This–this is not what it looks like.” Dean put on a winning smile but Tara had to struggle not to facepalm.

“Really? Cause it looks like devil worship.”

“What? No! This is not devil worship, this…” He continued to stutter until his smile faded, “I don’t have a good answer.”

“This isn’t Family Feud, Dean.” Tara muttered. Sam rolled his eyes.

“Look, we’re leaving.” But the man shook his head.

“You’re not going anywhere.” He started advancing on them, and Tara backed up until she almost tripped over Dean, “Ever again...Sam.” He looked over at Tara and Dean, his eyes turning pure white.

“Alastair. I thought you got deep-fried extra crispy.”

“Nah. Just the pediatrician I was riding. His wife’s still looking for him. It’s hilarious.” Tara felt anger start to boil up inside her.

“Anyway, no time to chat. Got a hot date with death.” He flicked his hand at them, and suddenly Tara was flying through the air. She hit the ground hard, and pain exploded in the back of her head right before everything went black.

\------

When Tara came to, her head was pounding. Somehow, they’d gotten back to the hotel. But instead of her air mattress, Tara found herself lying on one of the beds. Why did her head hurt so much? She tried to sit up, but that just made her stomach roil.

“Here.” Sam appeared next to her, holding a bag of ice wrapped in a towel, “It’ll help.”

“Thanks.” Her voice was no higher than a whisper, “Where’s Dean?”

“Right here.” He moaned from the other bed, “I think I have a concussion.”

“You want some aspirin?”

“Yes.” Tara grumbled.

“No thanks, House.” Dean sat up, but Tara was more than content to lie on her back until she didn’t feel like she was going to puke.

“So demons, huh?”

“Yeah. So much for miracles.”

“What happened to Alastair?” Tara asked, “All I remember is him throwing me.”

“I told Dean, he tried to fling me, or whatever, and it didn’t work so he bailed.” Sam got up and went over to the coffee maker. Not suspicious at all.

“How come he couldn’t fling you?” Dean pressed, “He chucked you pretty good last time.” Sam just shrugged.

“No idea.”

“Liar.” Tara muttered, shifting the bag of ice over her forehead and closing her eyes.

“Sam, do me a favor. If you’re gonna keep you little secrets, I can’t really stop you. But just don’t treat Hershey and me like idiots, ok?”

“What? Dean, I’m not keeping secrets.” His lie only made Tara’s head hurt worse. If there was one thing she’d learned about Sam, it’s that he only kept secrets if Ruby was involved.

“Whatever.” Dean clearly didn’t believe him either, “So did you go back and Q&A the dead kid?”

“Didn’t have to. Bobby called, he did some digging.” Sam sat down at the foot of Tara’s bed. She took the ice pack off her face and rolled onto her side to at least pretend to be a part of the conversation.

“And?”

“He thinks I’m right. Local reaper’s gone. But not just gone–kidnapped.”

“By demons? Why?”

“Listen to this.” Sam opened the journal he was holding, “And he bloodied death under the newborn sky. Sweet to taste, but bitter once devoured.”

“Swanky. What the hell’s that mean?”

“Well, it’s from a very obscure, very arcane version of Revelations.”

“Fuck.” Tara let herself roll back onto her back.

“That mean what I think it means?”

“Basically, you kill a reaper under the equinox moon, tomorrow night, by the way, you got yourself a broken seal.”

“How do you ice a reaper? You can’t kill death.”

“I dunno, maybe demons can. Where the hell are the angels is what I wanna know. We could use their help for once.”

“But just Castiel. Uriel can go screw off.”

“Last I checked, Huggy Bear ain’t available. It looks like we’re gonna have to take care of this one ourselves.”

“What are we gonna do, just swing in and save the friendly neighborhood reaper?”

“The  _ invisible _ friendly neighborhood reaper.” Tara corrected.

“Either of you got a better idea, I’m all ears.”

“Dean, Tara’s right. The only people who can see reapers are the dead or the dying.”

“Well if ghosts are the only ones are the only ones who can see them…”

“Yeah?”

“Then we become ghosts.” Dean put his ice pack back on.

“That’s actually a really good idea.”

“You  _ both  _ have concussions.” Sam said, resigned.

“Sounds crazy, I know.”

“It  _ is _ crazy.” But he didn’t have a better idea, “How?”

\------

“I can’t even begin to tell you how crazy you three are.” Pamela shook her head as Tara let her and the Winchesters into the room.

“Pamala! You’re a sight for sore eyes.” Tara realized she’d phrased that wrong as soon as the words left her mouth. The psychic chucked, lowering her glasses so Tara could see the balls of white plastic.

“That’s sweet, Kitty. What do you say to deaf people?” Before Tara could apologize, Pamela went on, “Which one of you brainiacs came up with astral projection?”

“Yo.” Dean raised a hand. It looked like Pamela rolled her eyes behind her glasses.

“Of course, Chachi. So let’s be clear, you wanna rip your souls out of your bodies and take a little stroll through the spirit world? Do you have any idea how heavy-duty insane that is?”

“Maybe, but that’s where the reaper is, so–”

“So it’s nuts.” She cut him off.

“Not if you know what you’re doing.”

“You  _ don’t _ know what you’re doing.”

“But you do.” Tara insisted.

“Yeah.” She admitted, “I do, and guess what? I’m sick of being hauled back into your angel-demon, soc-greaser crap.”

“Look, I’d love to be kicking back with a cold one and watching  _ Judge Judy  _ too.”

“Nice. More blind jokes?”

“You know what I mean. We’re talking the end of the world here, ok? No more tasseled leather pants, no more Ramones CDs, no more nothing.” 

“We need your help.” Tara said as calmly as she could before Dean could go on, “Please. And if it makes you feel better, we haven’t seen an angel in months.” Pamela sighed, but finally she nodded.

“Fine. Let’s do this.”

The three of them closed the room up as best they could. Sam and Dean would lay down on the beds while Tara blew up the air mattress for herself. While they were setting up the candles as Pamela instructed, she leaned against the desk.

“Tell me something, geniuses. Even if you do break into the veil and you find the reaper, how are you gonna save it?”

“With style and class.”

“You’re gonna be three walking pieces of fog who can’t touch or move anything. You’ll be defenseless, hotshot.”

“I seem to recall a bunch of ghosts beating the crap out of  _ us _ .”

“Yeah, they had plenty of time to practice.”

“Then it’s time to cram.” Tara shrugged, “Wouldn’t be the first time I became an expert in something overnight.”

“Wow, the Three Musketeers. All right, lie down and close your eyes.” Tara did as Pamela asked, sinking into the air mattress. She hadn’t bothered to put sheets on it, so she just laid on the velvet of the top side.

Once they were settled, Pamela began to chant softly. Tara knew the words were in Latin, but she tried not to think too hard about their meaning.

“Ok, guys. That’s it, showtime.” Pamela suddenly switched back to English, and Tara sat up and swung her legs over the side of the mattress. She didn’t feel any different. Dean sat up as well.

“Well, nothing like shooting blanks. What’s plan B?” But Pamela didn’t answer. In fact, she didn’t appear to have heard Dean at all.

Sam suddenly appeared between her mattress and Dean. When had he gotten up? Tara stood, only to see Sam lying on the bed. She looked back at the mattress, and there she was. Her eyes were closed, her breathing barely visible. It was eerie seeing herself outside a mirror’s reflection, but that’s not what held her attention.

“Does that shirt really go that low on me?” Looking down at herself, she didn’t feel like the flannel needed to be buttoned at the top, but looking down at her body, Tara felt like her entire chest was on display.

“No.” Sam said quickly, “It’s just the angle.” He gave Dean a warning bitch face.

“Alright, so, I’m assuming you’re somewhere over the rainbow.” Pamela said, “Remember, I have to bring you back. I’ll whisper the incantation in your ear.” She bent over Sam’s body.

“You’ve got a great ass.” Sam heard her voice echo in his ears, and he couldn’t suppress a grin, “And Tara agrees.”  _ That _ made him grateful he wasn’t back in his body.

“What’d she say?” Dean and Tara both asked, and Sam did a very bad job willing his smile away. Dean didn’t miss how his eyes lingered on Tara.

\------

It was so strange being able to just walk around and go anywhere. Walking through solid walls was the best part so far. Now they were heading towards the downtown area. 

Right as the got to the sidewalk, a young woman came running towards them. Tara gave a little shout of surprise, but they were all too slow in getting out of her way. The girl just ran _ through _ them. For a moment, Tara was breathless. Sam and Dean looked equally stunned before Dean broke into a grin.

“That was wild!” Testing a theory, he reached out and put his arm through Sam’s chest. Tara’s jaw dropped, her eyes flicking from one to the other as their expressions morphed from surprised to annoyed on Sam’s part and slightly sheepish on Dean’s.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” He managed to ask with a completely straight face.

“Get out of me.” Dean pulled his arm back.

“You’re such a prude. Come on.” He waved a giggling Tara after him.

The three of them walked around for what felt like forever. Eventually, the novelty of being able to walk through stuff and not having to look both ways before crossing the street wore off. 

“We’ve been spooking this town for hours.” Dean complained, “No demons, no black smoke. I saw we hit Victoria’s Secret and get our peep on, huh?”

“Dean.” Sam chided. It was one thing for him to say stuff like that when it was just the two of them, but not while Tara was within earshot.

“I’m in.” Tara fell into step beside Dean, but all her satisfaction that came from seeing the shocked looks on the Winchester’s faces vanished when she felt a chill creep up her back. Like someone was watching her. 

Sam felt it too, his eyes tracking up to an upstairs window of a house across the street. There was someone familiar-looking there, staring at them.

“Hey, 3:00. The kid in the window.” Sam pointed him out to Dean, “Am I crazy, or is he looking at us?”

“It’s cause we’ve seen him before.”

“That’s Cole.” Tara breathed, placing why he looked so familiar, “Cole Griffith, the last person to die.” Cole’s form flickered, then vanished.

Getting inside that house was the easiest B&E ever. Probably because there was no breaking, just entering. They made it upstairs just in time to see a soccer ball bounce off an open door frame and go flying. When they got there, a woman was ducking out of the room. Tara winced as she passed through her, but then had to dodge a little basketball that Cole threw at them, followed by a baseball.

“Stop!” Dean shouted, “How are you doing that?”

“Who are you?”

“Relax, Cole. It’s ok.”

“How do you know my name?”

“Look, this isn’t gonna be easy to hear, but….you’re dead. You’re a spirit, us too.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Haley Joel, I know I’m dead.” He said, more frustrated than anything else, “What do you want?”

“We just want to talk.”

“About what?”

“You death, Cole.” Tara put it as gently as possible, “Can you walk us through what happened when you died?”

\------

Cole took them downstairs so he could keep an eye on his mom. She was pouring herself a glass of water with shaking hands.

“I was outside all morning. They tell you to be careful when it’s cold.”

“Cold air can cause an asthma attack?” Cole shrugged, not meeting any of their eyes.

“But then I was in my room. It happened so fast. I called out for my mom, but nothing came out. Everything started spinning, and then I was just standing there, looking down at my body.” He leaned heavily on a chair and the look on his face made Tara sorry she asked him to go through the experience again.

“And that’s when you saw the man?”

“Creepy old guy in a black suit. He wanted me to go with him but...” Cole looked at his mom over his shoulder, “I didn’t wanna go.”

“Reaper.” Sam murmured, “How’d you get rid of him?”

“I didn’t. The black smoke did.”

“Black smoke?” Dean jumped on that right away.

“It was everywhere. I hid in the closet, and when I came out it was gone, and so was he.”

“Do you know where the black smoke went?”

“No. But I know where it is.” The lights started flickering.  _ That _ was never a good sign.

“They’re back.”

“Who?” But Cole just flickered out of existence. A gust of wind colder than Tara had ever felt before blew in from the front door, making the curtain fly.

“Another reaper.” The boys were up and running to the stairs.

“Hey. Hey! Wait, we need to talk to you!” Dean called. When they reached the foot of the stairs, there was a gorgeous woman coming down. She was stylishly dressed with short, straight black hair and light eyes.

“Dean.” Was the first word out of her mouth.

“Do I know you?”

“We go way back.”

“Yeah, to about five seconds ago.” He quipped. 

“A little farther than that.” She kept coming down, forcing them to move out of her way, “You don’t remember me?”

“Honestly, if I had a nickel for every time I heard a girl say that–” Tara rolled her eyes.

“Classy.”

“You’re gonna have to freshen my memory.” Dean ignored her jab. The reaper stepped forward, stood up on her tip-toes, and kissed him. When she pulled back, recognition dawned on the older Winchester’s face.

“Tessa.”

“That’s one of my names, yeah.”

“So you  _ do _ know her.”

“From the hospital after the accident.”

“The accident with dad?” Obviously they were talking about something long before Tara’s time, “So this is the reaper that came after you.”

“Yeah.”

“Well this was fun. Now, if you’ll excuse me–” She moved to go upstairs, but Dean grabbed her upper arms.

“Wait, wait you can’t–you can’t take the kid.”

“Why?”

“Demons are in town, that’s why. They’ve already snatched your reaper pal, and the kid knows where.”

“So?” Tara was starting not to like this reaper. She was too...disconnected from the situation.

“So you should shag ass.” Sam said, “For all we know, they could try and snatch you too.”

“Except that this town is off the rails, and someone has to set it straight.”

“Yeah, we understand that, but these are special circumstances.”

“What? Your whole angel-demon dance-off? I could care less. I just want to do my job.”

“And we want to help you do that by freeing your friend.” Tara finally worked up the guts to interject, “So if you would just bail town–”

“No.” Her refusal was as cold as the wind she left in her wake.

“Well then could you hold off until we fix this? Please.” Tessa considered Dean for a moment before she gave in.

“Alright, but just so we’re clear, when I start reaping again, I’m starting with the kid.”

“Understood.” Sam said before either Dean or Tara could say anything more, “I’ll find him.”

“Wait, wait, wait. What are you gonna say to him?” Sam swallowed.

“Whatever I have to.” He went upstairs.

While they waited, Tara reclaimed her seat at the dining room table, and Tessa leaned on the one next to her.

“You’re a new addition to their duo.” She said without preamble.

“What do you mean?”

“Even among us reapers, the Winchesters are famous. And it’s not just because Dean ducked me way back when. How’d you meet them?” Tara shrugged.

“Just lucky, I guess. Wrong place, wrong time turned into right place, right time.”

“Interesting.”

“How so?” Tara glanced over at Dean, who was trying and failing to make it seem like he wasn’t listening in.

“With your...background. I’m surprised you didn’t find you way to this life sooner.” Tara felt her stomach turn sour.

“Excuse me?” Tessa looked down at her, incredulous.

“Do you not know?”

“Know what?” But she shook her head.

“It’s not my place to tell.” She strode over to Dean, leaving Tara open-mouthed at the table.

“I’ll tell you, life is funny.” Tessa said to Dean like she hadn’t just dropped a half-exploded bombshell in Tara’s lap. Something told Tara that pushing for more information now would only result in pissing Tessa off and right now, they needed her on their side. So she got up and stormed into the living room, staring out the window.

What did she mean, ‘her background’? She’d never come into contact with anything remotely supernatural until Riley abducted her. Her life had been totally normal. And why had Tessa refused to tell her more? Her mind was spinning, but she didn’t have any more time to ponder the reaper’s words. 

Sam cleared his throat behind her. He and Cole had come downstairs. The kid was half-hiding behind Sam’s large frame.

“Hey, Cole. I’m Tessa, I’m not going to hurt you.” Cole backed up.

“It’s ok, Cole. Just tell them what you told me.”

“I saw the black smoke at my funeral.”

“At the cemetery?”

“At the funeral home. It was everywhere.” But before he could say anything more, the lights started flickering again.

“You doing that?” Dean asked Tessa.

“No.” The front door banged open and black smoke rushed through the house. It totally engulfed Tara’s vision as she covered her eyes and ducked. When the smoke cleared, racing back out the way it came, she and the others were alright, but Tessa was gone.

“Tessa?”

“Cole, you ok?” The kid nodded.

“How the hell are we supposed to fight that?” Tara demanded.

“I don’t know, learn some ghost moved?”

“By  _ tonight _ ? Yeah, sure I’ll meet you back at Mr. Miyagi’s.”

“Who’s Mr. Miyagi?” Cole asked. Dean looked at him, and Tara swore she saw the moment he got an idea.

\------

It took ages for them to figure out how to make stuff move. It was like trying to use muscles Tara didn’t know she had. But once she got the hang of it, she toned up fast. The glee of being a ghost came back in full force when she pulled a vase into her hand off the mantle.

“I feel like a Jedi!”

“Use the Force, young Jones.” Dean teased.

“This isn’t even the good stuff.” Cole laughed.

“Well then let’s get to the good stuff!” Without warning, Cole slugged Sam in the gut.

“See? You wanna hit stuff, you just gotta get mad.”

“Yeah, got it.” Sam groaned.

“Now you try.” He said to Dean, “Hit me.” Dean tried to refuse, not wanting to hit a kid, but then Cole backhanded him. Hard. Sam burst out laughing. Until Cole turned to him.

“Dude, I’m not gonna do  _ Fight Club _ with a 12-year-old.” Cole punched him with a closed fist and Tara couldn’t hold back her amusement anymore.

“Your turn.” Cole was standing in front of her now. Tara tried to summon rage over her laughter, and took a half-hearted swing at him. Her hand never made contact with him. Cole vanished, then reappeared behind her and delivered a blow to the back of her knee. Tara crashed to the floor.

“Woah, you gotta teach us that.”

“Hey!” Tara protested.

“You know what I mean!”

\------

By the time they reached the funeral home, it was after dark. They were really cutting it close on this one. But when they got there, the building was covered in light blue sigils. At first it looked like graffiti, but it was too organized.

“This looks like  _ New Jack City _ .” Dean commented, “Can nobody see this?”

“Maybe it’s demon invisible ink, you can only see it in the veil.”

“But what does it mean?” Tara asked.

“Let’s find out.” Sam walked up to the open door and went inside. It was dark, save for the light on in the foyer. The three of them split up, Sam going left, Dean straight, and Tara to the right. Just being in a funeral home again made her skin crawl. She was so grateful she couldn’t smell the sickly sweet odor that came with it. 

The three of them met up around the back, heading for the backmost room together. The door was wide open. On the floor, there was some sort of white paint creating another sigil. Tessa was lying inside it, next to a creepy old guy in a suit. Both appeared to be sleeping. The three of them ducked out of sight when they saw at least one demon walking around. But then Dean seemed to remember they were ghosts.

“Dude, check me out.” He walked into the room, vanished, and became visible again right behind the demon. He tapped him on the shoulder, punched him, and then vanished again. The demon’s fists hit nothing but empty air.

“Wicked.” Sam and Tara vanished as well, moving to form a circle around the demon. The three of them reappeared at intervals, just long enough to punch the demon towards the next person for a bit until Sam finally knocked him to the floor. 

The demon scrambled back towards the closed casket, trying to get away, but while Dean went around one side, Sam and Tara went the other, completely trapping him.

“You know, this ghosts thing, it’s kinda rad.” Dean grinned. 

But then another demon came running in carrying an iron chain. Steam was coming off his hands as he dragged it in front of the casket. The first demon managed to vault over the casket, getting out just before the loop was closed.

“Iron!” Sam exclaimed. Tara’s heart sank. Now all the things they loved to do to ghosts could be done to them. Maybe this wasn’t so great after all.

“Boys.” The nasally voice came from the doorway, and it belonged to a skinny, balding man, “Find the place ok?” His eyes rolled back until they were pure white. Alastair grinned as he approached the chain. Tara was sure that, back in her body, her heart was thudding a mile a minute. The demon they’d been beating on handed Alastair a shotgun. The demon’s grin widened and he shot Dean with zero hesitation. Tara couldn’t help the shriek that escaped her lips when Dean vanished.

“Rock salt’s not so much fun anymore, is it?” He taunted. Dean reappeared.

“Alastair, you bastard.”

“Well, go on.” He said to Sam, “Why don’t you try some of your mojo on me now, hotshot? Hard to get it up when you’re not wearing your meat, huh?”

“Go to Hell.” Sam snapped.

“Oh, if only I could, but they just keep sending me back up to this arctic craphole.” He paced around the reaper trap.

“To kill death?”

“No, to kill death  _ twice _ . It takes two to break a seal. I figured another one would show up, though. They’re like lemmings.” He pumped the shotgun and Tara felt blazing pain shoot through her. For several seconds, she was frozen, paralyzed in darkness, until she was able to get herself to manifest again.

“You can’t kill us.” Dean was telling Alastair. Sam flickered back next to her.

“Is that so?” Tara didn’t like Alastair’s smug tone one bit as he pulled a scythe, seemingly out of midair, and began turning it around in his hands. 

“Anyhoo. Moon’s in the right spot, the board is set. Let’s get started, shall we?”

“You’re gonna kill a reaper with that? It’s a little on the nose, doncha think?”

“Is it? An old friend lent it to me. You know he doesn’t really ride a pale horse, but he does have three amigos. And they’re just jonesing for the Apocalypse.” Alastair knelt inside the reaper trap and grabbed the older one by his collar, “It pays to have friends in low places. Don’t you think?” He wrapped the scythe around the back of the reaper’s neck, chanted something in Latin, and severed the reaper’s spinal column. Tara flinched and looked away, but she still heard the thunder boom in her ears, and felt the wind blow her hair back.

Alastair moved on to Tessa, grabbing her jacket and yanking her to her knees. 

“No!” Her said when she realized what was happening, but there was nothing she could do. Tara felt Sam nudge her. Well, nudge was the wrong word. His arm moved through hers. He got Dean’s attention too, before turning his eyes to the iron chandelier hanging over the outside of the trap.

“Stop!” Tessa commanded as Alastair began to chat again. But instead of watching, Tara glued her eyes to the light fixture and reached out with her powers. Beyond the iron barrier, they were weaker, but with the three of them working together, it began to shake. Tara bit her lip as she increased her efforts and finally, the fixture fell free. It landed square on the trap, breaking it an instant before Alastair could slit Tessa’s throat. The reaper vanished from his grasp, reappearing beside the iron chain and unhooking it.

“Bye-bye.” Dean said. Tara waggled her fingers at Alastair.

Together, the four of them vanished.

They reappeared just outside the funeral home, only Sam wasn’t there.

“Where’s your brother?”

“I’ll go find him. You get outta here.” But Tara heard chanting in her ears. Pamela’s voice. And before she could protest, her spirit was yanked back to her body.

Tara sat bolt upright on her air mattress, nearly bashing her skull against Pamela’s. The psychic had collapsed completely to the floor, and had one hand clasped over a wound in her belly. But her eyes were turned towards Sam, who was also back in his body, and the other person in the room. A demon. Tara struggled to make sense of what she was seeing. 

Sam had his hand outstretched towards the demon, much like he had with Samhain. Only now, instead of cringing and clasping his head, he stood tall and confident. Black smoke poured from the demon’s mouth, and into a fiery hole in the floor.

As soon as he finished exorcising the demon, he turned to Pamela, and was surprised to see Tara sitting up, staring at him. Guilt and apprehension flooded him when he realized she’d seen the whole thing. But he didn’t have time to ask for her secrecy now. In her delirium, Pamela had started laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Sam crouched to their level as she leaned back against Tara.

“I can’t die. Not in this town.” She protested. But she took pressure off the stab wound all the same so Sam could see it.

“Pamela–”

“Quit your worrying, Grumpy. How ‘bout you make me a drink, huh? You stay right where you are, Kitty.” Pamela leaned on her more, and Tara leaned in turn against the desk behind her.

“You need a doctor.” Sam protested.

“Make me a drink, Sam.” Pamela left no room for argument.

\------

Once Pamela had her drink, she had Tara help her over to Dean’s bed. She chanted the incantation to wake Dean up while Sam sat on the other one, biting his fingernails. When she finished, Sam and Tara helped her settle onto the open bed.

“Hey, we just gotta talk to Tessa, that’s all.” Sam tried to tell Pamela, “Get her to hold off reaping you until we get you better.”

“I’m pretty sure she’s started up again.” Pamela gasped, and blood began to pour from the wound in her stomach. Dean gasped awake, bolting upright as Pamela took another drink from her flask.

“What happened?” Dean asked as soon as he saw the state Pamela was in.

“Dean, where’s Tessa?”

“She’s…” That was all he needed to say. Tara let her head drop low.

“Pamela, I’m so sorry–”

“Stop.” She took off her glasses.

“You don’t deserve this.”

“Yeah, I don’t.” She pointed right at Dean, I told you I didn’t want anything to do with this. Do me a favor? Tell that bastard Bobby Singer to go to Hell for ever introducing me to you two in the first place. But not you, Kitty. Come here.” She pulled Tara in closer.

“You’re as much a victim as I am,” She whispered, “Though you just don’t know it yet. I like you, Tara. So run. Run from this life while you still can. At least get away from these two, or you’ll end up like me. Or worse.” She coughed heavily.

“Take it easy, Pamela.” Tara backed off to give her more air, “If it’s any consultation, you’re going to a better place.” Pamela scoffed at Dean.

“You’re lying. But what the hell, right? Everybody’s gotta go sometime. Come here.” She beckoned Sam. Tara stood up, sitting next to Dean while Sam shifted closer to Pamela. Just like with her, Pamela whispered in Sam’s ear too soft for anyone but him to hear. Dean and Tara strained their ears, but didn’t hear anything until Pamela started coughing again, this time bringing up blood.

“Pamela?” The psychic’s head lolled to the side, her hand falling away from her wound.

“Pamela!” Tara’s jaw was trembling and tears threatened to fall, but she wouldn’t let them. Not right now.

“What did she say to you?” Dean asked Sam. But he only turned away.

Meanwhile, Tara stared down at her air mattress, unwilling to look at Pamela’s body. Was she right? Did staying with the Winchesters mean a bloody death in her near future? And what was it in her background that Tessa had alluded to? 

Tara had too many questions piling up and she needed answers. Soon.


	24. On The Head of a Pin

Tara sulked in the backseat of the Impala. She hated funerals. Pamela’s had only been her second, and she hated them. The tear trails on her cheeks were itching and her head was aching from the dehydration thanks to all the crying she’d done in the past day. The Advil she’d taken forty five minutes ago wasn’t helping.

Dean was in the passenger’s seat, letting Sam drive for once. Tara was finding that he and Dean shared a lot of the same philosophies about driving, And if she wasn’t still reeling from Pamela’s death and the casual way Sam had exorcised that demon, she might have found the way his hands were wrapped loosely around the steering wheel sexy. She hadn’t told Dean about that yet. He seemed to have finally put their last quarrel behind him at the funeral, and they’d agreed that they needed to hunt Lilith down. Now.

“Ruby’ll meet us outside Cheyenne.” Sam said as they blew through another nameless sleepy town. Tara squinted and cringed at the sudden, bright streetlights, “She’s been tracking some leads. Dean just groaned a bit, in almost as bad shape as Tara.

“Look, I know she’s not exactly on your Christmas list, but if she can help us get to Lilith–”

“Man, work with Ruby, don’t. I really don’t give a rat’s ass.”

“What’s your problem?”

“Pamela didn’t want anything to do with this,” Tara squeezed her eyes shut, trying to hold the tears back, “And we dragged her back into it, Sam.”

“She knew what was at stake.”

“Oh, yeah. Save the world–and we’re doing such a damn good job of it.”

“Dean–”

“I’m tired of burying friends, Sam.” Tara stretched out on the backseat and buried herself under her jacket. If she kept looking out the window, she was going to throw up. But the jacket did nothing to block out the Winchesters.

“Look, if we catch a fresh trail–”

“We follow it. I know. Like I said, I’m just getting tied.”

“Well, get angry.” Sam finally took his eyes off the road, but he failed to get a rise out of Dean.

\------

“Hey.” A hand was rubbing Tara’s shoulder gently. She groaned as she sat up slowly. Her headache was still there, but the Advil had certainly kicked in. Sam was leaning over the front bench.

“You coming in? I mean, you’re welcome to sleep out here…” He waited for Tara to cut him off, to flirt back, but she didn’t. She just grabbed herself and trudged over to where Dean was waiting.

“Home, crappy home.” Dean muttered as he tossed his bags down on the floor while Sam flipped on the lights. Any residual sleepiness lingering in Tara vanished as soon as she saw they weren’t alone in the room. Castiel and Uriel had been waiting for them.

“Winchester, and Winchester.” Uriel said.

“Really?” Tara rolled her eyes, “Standing in the dark waiting for us? As if that’s not the beginning of every slasher movie ever.” 

“And Jones.” Uriel sneered at her.

“Oh come on!”

“You are needed.” Uriel ignored how tired and annoyed Dean sounded.

“Needed? We just got back from needed!”

“Now you mind your tone with me.”

“No,  _ you _ mind your damn tone with  _ us _ .” 

“We just got back from Pamela’s funeral.” Sam explained.

“Pamela, you know, psychic Pamela? You remember her. Cas, you remember her–you burned her eyes out.” The brunette angel was being uncharacteristically quiet, “Remember that? Good times! Yeah, then she died saving one of your precious seals. So maybe you can stop pushing us around like chess pieces for five freaking minutes!”

“We raised you out of Hell for  _ our _ purposes.” Uriel kept his cool, but that only served to piss Tara off more. She still hadn’t forgotten his threat from November.

“Yeah, and what were those again? What exactly do you want from me?”

“Start with gratitude.”

“Dean, we know this is difficult to understand–”

“And  _ we _ ….” Uriel gave Castiel a meaningful look, “...don’t care.” Castiel looked like he wanted to make a retort, but held his tongue. Interesting, given that last time he’d been the one holding Uriel at bay. Tara narrowed her eyes at the pair of angels.

“Now, seven angels have been murdered. All of them from our garrison, the last one was killed tonight.”

“Demons? How are they doing it?”

“We don’t know.”

“I’m sorry, but what do you want us to do about it? I mean, a demon with the juice to ice angels has to be out of our league, right?”

“We can handle the demons, thank you very much.”

“Once we find whoever it is.”

“So what, then? You want us to play detective? Play McGee, DiNozzo, and Ziva David? We’re not NCIS!”

“Not quite.” Castiel finally stepped forward to stand next to Uriel instead of behind him, “There is no need to change your legal names. We have Alastair.”

“Great, he should be able to name your triggerman.” Dean leaned on the rectangular table that came with the kitchenette.

“But he won’t talk.” Castiel finished, “Alastair’s will is very strong. We’ve arrived at an impasse”

“Yeah well, he’s like a black belt in torture. I mean, you guys are out of your league.”

“That’s why we’ve come to his student.” Tara’s jaw dropped, “You happen to be the most qualified interrogator we’ve got.

“Dean, you’re our best hope.” Castiel tried to rephrase the request.

“No. No way. You can’t ask me to do this, Cas, not this.” But Uriel just chuckled, and leaned on the table across from Dean.

“Who said anything about asking?” Tara blinked, there was the fluttering of invisible wings, and then suddenly she and Sam were alone in the motel room. Sam threw up his hands. 

“Damn it!”

“What do we do? How do we get him back?” Sam rubbed his hand over his mouth.

“I don’t know. I think our best bet is to wait on Ruby. She’s gotta know a spell to find him.” Tara bit her lip. After what she’d seen Sam do, she wasn’t sure she trusted Ruby. She knew Dean didn’t either. But it seemed that, at the moment, they didn’t have much choice.

\------

Ruby arrived about an hour later. Tara had finally given in to her exhaustion and was dozing on one of the queen beds when there was a knock at the door. Sam, who had spent the whole time pacing, jumped to answer it. Tara sat up and started combing her fingers through her hair, trying to get it look somewhat neat.

“I can still smell them.” Were the first words out of Ruby’s mouth as she came in, “Seriously, Sam, I’m not exactly dying to tangle with angels again.”

“I need you to find out where they took Dean.” He’d laid a map of the US out on the table for her to use.

“Not sure I see the problem.” Ruby took her bag off her shoulder, “You know they have Alastair strung up six ways from Sunday. Dean cuts himself a slice, Al’s reduced to a quivering heap, and the good guys get the goods. What’s wrong with that?” Other than the fact that Dean didn’t want to torture? Nothing.

“He can’t do it.” Sam said softly.

“Look, I get it. You don’t him going all torture master again.”

“No, I mean he  _ can’t _ do it. He can’t get the job done.”

“As much as I hate to admit it,” Tara inserted herself into the conversation, “Sam’s right. Dean’s a mess right now.”

“Oh, and you know this because you’re such an old friend who he tells everything to.” Ruby cocked an eyebrow at her.

“Ruby. Tara has a point. And it’s not just from recently. Something happened to him downstairs. He’s not what he used to be, he’s not strong enough.”

“And you are?” She challenged. Sam looked up at Ruby, then over to Tara. He knew he was playing with fire with these powers. And he also knew that what he was about to do would blow any shot he had left with her, but right now Dean needed him. He looked back at Ruby.

“I will be.”

It didn’t take Ruby long to set up the location spell. She had a lot of the same stuff as Pamela, candles and herbs and some feather, and then some stuff that Tara had never seen before. Bones, powders, and other substances that Tara didn’t want to know what they were. She felt the demon’s eyes following her as she lit the black candles. Sam was busy disabling the fire alarm and sprinklers in the room.

When they were ready, Tara turned out all the lights and Ruby began the incantation. Then, she lit a corner of the map on fire with one of the black candles. Within seconds, smoke was billowing off it and Tara could feel the heat of the flames on her face. She and Sam both took a step back.

“Relax.” Ruby looked at them both, her eyes completely black, “The fire is our friend. Besides, the only part of the map we need is the ‘where’s Dean’ part.” She looked back at the map, “Out.” On her command, the flames vanished. Most of the map was nothing but a strunken piece of ash, but a perfect circle remained untouched, save for the tiny pinprick in the center.

“There. Your brother is there. And it’s a good thing angels aren’t concerned with hiding their dirty business. They’re not used to being spied on, I mean, who’d be stupid enough to try.” She shrugged at Sam flirtatiously. But Sam ignored her.

“Tara, can I talk to you outside for a moment?” His face was serious. Ruby narrowed her eyes at Tara, but didn’t protest.

“Uh, sure.” She followed Sam outside. Dawn was still a long way off, and there were no other living souls in sight when they stepped into the night. As soon as the door closed behind them, Sam turned to her.

“Look, can you take a drive? Maybe go pick up some food?” Tara’s jaw dropped.

“Wait, are you shitting me? Sam, I don’t have a car and I’m pretty sure Dean would skin me if I took–” Sam jangled the keys to the Impala in front of her.

“Dean doesn’t have to know. Our little secret, ok?” But Tara didn’t take the keys.

“Just like you exorcising that demon back in Wyoming is ‘our little secret’? I thought you agreed ages ago to take a walk with...whatever powers you get after screwing her.” Sam held a finger up to stop her.

“That is  _ not _ where these powers come from.”

“What, so you’ve been doing her just for kicks? Good to know what your priorities are when you flirt with me then.” Tara snatched the keys out of Sam’s hand.

“Tara, wait–” 

“Nope. I’m going to get food. And don’t worry, I’ll take my time so you and her can get off.” Tara stalked off towards the Impala, tears of a different kind threatening to spill over. 

“Fuck.” Sam raked both hands through his hair. That was  _ not _ the way the conversation was supposed to go. But he didn’t have time to fix it now. He let himself back into the motel room.

“Quite the lover’s quarrel out there.” Ruby was leaning against the table, “Anything I should know?” Sam scoffed.

“No. But it’s been weeks.” Since before Tara had rejoined them in Iowa, “I need it.”

_ Great.  _ Ruby had to resist rolling her eyes. So typical that a pretty girl like Tara would make Sam want to get back on the straight and narrow. Ruby had to use all her feminine charm to get Sam where she wanted him. But as soon as the knife came out, and Sam’s breath quickened, she knew. She knew she had her hooks in him so deep that whatever he felt for Tara was insignificant next to his need for her blood.

\------

Tara was fuming. Fuming and devastated. How could she have been so deluded as to imagine that Sam wanted anything but to get in her pants? He’d never given her any indication that he’d wanted something more. Sure, he’d comforted her after she’d come out of the djinn poison trip, but he’d just done that to be her friend. And she’d read too deep into it, only seeing what she wanted to see.

The Impala handled extremely well. Tara could easily see why Dean loved it so much. She responded with just the slighted touch to the pedals or turn of the steering wheel. Unlike the Winchesters, Tara obeyed all the posted speed limits. The engine purred nicely and the windshield wipers didn’t squeak as they wiped away the light rain that had begun to fall. The only thing that took some getting used to was the gear shift being in the steering wheel.

Tara pulled into the nearest open restaurant she found. It was a McDonalds, and normally the Winchesters went for something a little better, but at this hour, she suspected it was the best place open. She went through the drive-through. She knew what Sam usually wanted, so she just got that, a fried chicken sandwich for herself, plus an ice cream sundae because dammit, she’d earned it.

She stayed in the car once she got back to the motel while she ate. True to her word, giving Sam ample time to get off with Ruby and do whatever he needed to do to ‘get it up’, as Alastair had put it.

She was just polishing off the remains of her Oreo sundae when Sam banged on the roof of the car. Tara jumped, nearly dropping the container, and glared at him. Fortunately, Ruby seemed to be long gone. 

“Gimme the keys and scoot over.” He threw all their bags into the backseat, “We need to move.” His pupils were blown wide, to the point where there was only a small ring of color left in his irises. Even over the smell of fast food, Tara could smell the stench of sex rolling off him. 

She wrinkled her nose as she dropped the keys in his hand and shuffled as far away from him as she could get. The bags he’d tossed in the back effectively took up all the room there was, leaving nowhere for her to sit but shotgun.

“I got you food.” She said, pushing the burrito towards him. Sam didn’t even glance at it.

“I’m not hungry.” The Impala roared to life and he took off down the road.

Sam was completely different from when she’d left the motel. He was quiet, brooding. Eyes fixed on the road in front of him. Tara had thought he would try to apologize about earlier, explain himself, but Sam did no such thing. He just drove in silence, ignoring her entirely.

Tara looked out the window, trying to get her emotions under control. She had to be ready to fight both Uriel and Castiel to get Dean back. After he was safely back with them, then she could try to figure out where she’d gone wrong with Sam.

At last, they pulled into the parking lot of an abandoned warehouse. So typical.

Sam didn’t even wait for her to be ready to go. He just parked and went racing inside, unarmed.

Tara sprinted after him, but she was no match for his long legs. The only reason she caught up with him at all was because he’d stopped. Tara stopped too, taking in the scene before her. The angels had had trussed Alastair up in a smaller room, inside a very old looking devil’s trap with the Star of David inside it. Dean was on the floor, bloody, next to a trolly full of instruments of torture. Alastair had gotten free somehow, and had Castiel pinned against a pillar. He’d been in the process of doing...something–killing him?–when Sam interrupted them. He stretched out his hand, and Alastair’s words caught in his throat. With a simple gesture, the bloodied demon flew back against the brick wall. Castiel slumped to the floor.

Tara ran straight to Dean, but his eyes were closed.

“Come on, Dean.” Tara felt for a pulse at his neck. It was weak, but she found it. Then she spotted the demon-killing knife on the floor. Scrambling, she grabbed it, but there was no need. Sam had Alastair pinned like a butterfly on a corkboard.

“Stupid pet tricks.” He grumbled.

“Who’s murdering the angels?” Were the first words out of Sam’s mouth since he told her to move over, “How are they doing it?”

“You think I’m gonna tell you?” Alastair laughed.

“Yeah, I do.” Sam rotated his hand and made a similar gesture as Darth Vader when he choked someone. Alastair’s eyes turned white and he gagged.

“How are the demons killing angels?” Sam demanded once more.

“I….don’t….know!” Alastair growled.

“Right.” Sam clenched his fist entirely, and Alastair’s body began to tremble.

“It’s...not...us! We’re...not doing it!” His words were becoming more and more like imperceptible noises, but Tara understood. Her eyes flicked to Castiel as he watched Sam, his expression completely unreadable.

“I don’t believe you.” Sam said. His breathing had gotten faster, but he hadn’t even broken a sweat. It almost looked like he was...enjoying it. Like he was high on whatever Ruby did to him.

“Lilith is not behind this! No, she wouldn’t kill seven angels. She’d kill a hundred, a thousand.” The smugness was returning to Alastair’s voice. Sam dropped his hand, but Alastair stayed pinned.

“Oh, go ahead.” He taunted, “Send me back. If you can.”

“I’m stronger than that now. Now I can kill.” Tara felt her mouth go dry at the way Sam said that. Castiel’s unreadable expression finally turned to one of shock when Sam raised his hand once more. Almost immediately, Alastair was screaming. Fiery light flashed inside him, showing his ribcage. Even the brick wall behind him was starting to give, mortar crumbling to dust and bricks coming loose. And all the while Sam didn’t seem to struggle at all.

The light inside Alastair grew until it was too bright for Tara to look at. She shielded her eyes, her other hand keeping hold of the demon knife.

Then, the light died, and Alastair’s body slumped to the floor. Sam dropped his hand, breathing hard like he’d just done a quick sprint, not like he’d just killed one of the most powerful demons ever. He looked at Castiel, silently challenging him to reprimand him for using his powers, but the angels said nothing. Then he turned to look at Tara. Aside from appearing tired and wrecked from the past couple days, not to mention their argument earlier, she looked terrified. Her shoulders trembled with every breath, her mouth hung open, and her left hand was clenched so tightly around the demon knife her fingers were turning white. It wasn’t until he looked beyond the fear to the hurt in her eyes that Sam started to come down from the blood high. Guilt built up thick in his chest, and it only got worse when he looked at Dean, unconscious and bloody on the floor.

\------

Tara was slumped in a chair at the hospital, fighting sleep. Dean had been admitted five hours ago and he still hadn’t woken up. His vitals were steady, but Alastair had really done a number on him. The doctors had put him on the highest dose of morphine they safely could.

Sam was sitting right next to his bed. He seemed like he was back to normal, but Tara hadn’t spoken a word to him, other than to generally state that they needed to go to a hospital. Sam had carried Dean out to the car and laid him down in the back. Tara had ridden shotgun again, but hadn’t so much as glanced at him once. Even now, he had yet to catch her looking in his general direction, which he normally caught her doing once or twice an hour, even if she was unaware of it. But right now, Dean was the one he was worried about.

Castiel appeared in the doorway of Dean’s room and they both perked up. He made the slightest gesture with his head and then continued down the hall. Sam got up and followed immediately and, after mentally preparing herself, Tara followed.

“Get in there and heal him.” Sam saying.

“Sam–”

“Miracle, now.” He demanded.

“I can’t.”

“You and Uriel put him in there!”

“No.”

“No? You literally kidnapped him out of our motel room!” Tara’s voice was hoarse, “If you hadn’t asked him to–” She cut herself off before a doctor could overhear her say ‘torture’, “And taken him to that warehouse, this would never have happened!”

“You can’t even keep a simple devil’s trap together.” Sam added.

“I don’t know what happened. That trap–” Castiel clenched his jaw, “It shouldn’t have broken. I am sorry.”

“Sorry don’t cut it here. That’s not what we’re asking from you.”

“This whole thing was pointless. You understand that? The demons aren’t doing the hits. Something else was killing your soldiers.”

“Perhaps Alastair was lying.” Casiel insisted.

“No. He wasn’t.” If there was one thing Sam was certain of, it was that. He turned on heel, going straight back to Dean’s room, and Tara followed him.

After they’d been sitting for a few minutes, Sam swivelled around in his chair.

“Tara–”

“I don’t want to hear it, Sam.” She whispered.

“I’m sorry.” And unlike almost all the times he’d apologized to Dean, he truly meant it, “I’m sorry about the way I treated you earlier. You didn’t deserve it.”

“You’re right. I didn’t.” Sam looked down at the floor, “You know...my history. And you saw how much I was hurting. But I tried to–” The lump in her throat became too much. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath and trying to find her words, “A couple times now I thought that, maybe, just maybe you wanted to be something more than friends. Is that what we even are?”

“Yes.” Sam insisted, “Of course we are.”

“I thought you were trying to tell me we could be something more. I didn’t realize you meant friends with benefits, or whatever arrangement you have with Ruby–”

“Tara, that’s not what I want, I–”

“Then you need to figure it out.” She snapped, enough to make Sam’s eyes shoot back up to hers. Her brown eyes were full of tears, “You need to stop playing with my heart until you figure out what you want. If you want to just be friends, fine. I’ll stop flirting. But if you want anything else, then you need to not toss me aside every time Ruby calls. I don’t want sloppy seconds from you.”

“And that won’t be the case, I promise. But these powers–”

“No. No more excuses Sam.” She was close to yelling now, and the increase in volume made Dean stir. He moaned a bit, twitching in his bed. Sam looked at him right away, for any sign that something might be wrong. Tara took that opportunity to escape. She walked out the door as fast as socially acceptable while Sam was distracted and ducked into the first closet she came across.

Fortunately, this wasn’t Dr. Sexy, MD, so the closet was empty. Tara leaned against the wall and slid to the floor.

“Tara?” She heard Sam’s muffled voice in the hall. But she just clamped a hand over her mouth to hold her sobs in. All the sobs she’d been holding back, bottling up since Pamela’s funeral, that were only added to when Sam kicked her to the curb to screw Ruby, and then from his gruff attitude towards her after.

The worst part was that now, he seemed genuinely sorry. He’d been doing his puppy dog eyes and everything. Tara hadn’t meant to say things the way that she said them. She’d been so presumptuous in thinking that he’d ever want something more. Those ‘couple times’ had been brief, split-second flashes that she’d built on, extrapolated from. And wrongly so, it would seem. 

She couldn’t face him now, not like this. Because the last thing she wanted was more pity.

Sam’s footsteps eventually moved away, continuing on instead of returning to Dean’s room. As soon as he was out of earshot, Tara let her tears flow freely.

She didn’t know how long she sat there, in the hospital closet with tears streaming down her face, but eventually, she felt like all her emotions had been wrung out of her. No more tears would come, and she knew if she closed her eyes, she’d fall asleep with her head resting on her knees and wake up with the worst sore neck in the world. She hadn’t heard Sam come back this way, so Tara mustered what little strength she had left and got back on her feet. Opening the door a crack, she peered down the hall in either direction. No sign of Sam. So she left the closet, wiping her cheeks furiously, and crept back to Dean’s room. Maybe he was awake now. If Sam wasn’t back there.

When she turned the corner, she saw Castiel emerge from Dean’s room.

“Cas!” He whipped around, surprised.

“Tara Jones.” He greeted her politely enough, but he showed very little emotion on his face, “I have healed the worst of Dean’s wounds.” That was the last thing she’d been expecting to hear him say.

“T-thank you. Is Sam…?”

“He is not there at the moment. Excuse me, I must go.” There was the flutter of wings, and then Castiel was gone. Tara rolled her eyes. God, he needed to learn some social skills.

“See you around.” She muttered. When she looked into Dean’s room, he was awake. The morphine drip and oxygen tubes were still there, but all the other heavy gear was gone. Dean was a mess. His eyes were red from crying, not unlike her own, she suspected, and a rogue tear hung on the tip of his nose, refusing to fall.

“Tara.” His voice was rough, “Where’s Sammy?”

“Looking for me, I guess.” She sank back into her seat. Dean sniffled a bit.

“How badly did he fuck up?” Tara’s eyes shot up, ready to deny it, but Dean just chuckled sadly.

“You two have been dancing around each other like teenagers for ages, and I have eyes. I also know my brother. So? How bad?” Tara moved to sit sideways in the chair, pulling her legs up into a fetal position, resting her chin on her knees.

“Bad.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Do you wanna talk about whatever Cas told you just now?” Dean shook his head.

“No.”

“Well then there’s your answer.” Sam skidded to a stop in the doorway.

“Dean! You’re awake! Have you seen–” Then his eyes found her, “Tara.” He could tell she’d been crying, and the guilt in his chest just got that much worse. He stepped towards her chair, but she just turned to face the wall.

“Tara–”

“Sammy.” Dean spoke up, “Leave her be.” He watched his little brother deflate completely and slink back to the chair next to his bed. He shook his head. The last eighteen hours had seen everything fall apart for all of them. 

Sam looked over at Tara, who was still facing the wall. He’d never meant to hurt her. Never meant to make it seem like Ruby was more important to him. He just needed to use her until he could ice Lilith. So why couldn’t he express that in words? Where had he gone wrong? Tara sniffled suddenly, making him flinch. Once, he’d had the privilege of holding her in his arms while she cried. Now, she didn’t even want to be reminded that he was in the room.

Sam rubbed his hands over his face. Was there any way he could fix this? Or was anything they could have had broken beyond repair?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know this chapter wasn't all that happy...  
> But in other news....  
> 15.18 HAPPENED!! I'm so excited! (Also no spoilers for those who haven't had the chance to see it yet please. If you wanna talk more about it, DM me).


	25. It's A Terrible Life

Tara dragged herself out of bed at 8:30, just in time to see her brother off to work. She threw on lounge pants and a tank top before leaving her room. Ian, like normal, was wearing a wrinkled flannel shirt over a graphic tee and a pair of cargo pants. Nobody would have guessed that he was about to go work at an office building with a business casual dress code.

“See ya, sis!” He waved as he went out the door.

“Later!” Tara called as she poured herself a cup of coffee. She savored it, taking as long as she possibly could. But a cup of coffee and a muffin only lasted so long. Before she wanted to be, Tara was sitting down at her desk and pulling out her computer.

Job searching.

Finding a job as a translator shouldn’t be this difficult! Tara was fluent in French, Spanish, Italian, German, and Swedish. She had rudimentary knowledge of Chinese and Japanese that she was improving through shoddy online university classes, and some background in Latin. She’d graduated early, and with honors, from college, yet she was unemployed. 

Tara wrinkled her nose as she started searching the web. Just like yesterday, there were no new positions open, and she had yet to hear back from the six places she had already sent applications to.

After a couple hours, she’d still found absolutely nothing.

“Come on.” Tara let her head fall onto the desk. She absolutely hated this. She didn’t want to be here! She wanted to be...she wasn’t sure where. Not living with her brother.

Her phone rang suddenly, making Tara’s heart jump a mile.

“What?” She snapped after she saw it was Ian calling.

“Hey, best sister ever…” He began. Tara could hear someone laughing in the background and Ian telling him to shut up, “You’re not doing anything right now, are you?” Tara pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger.

“What do you want?”

“I forgot my lunch in the fridge and...uh...the cafeteria doesn’t exactly have the best food and I’ll really owe you one if–”

“Fine.” Tara shut her laptop, semi-annoyed, “I’ll be there in twenty.”

“You’re the best, sis!”

“Yeah, yeah.” She hung up, looked at her computer–which didn’t look quite right to her, maybe it was because she’d rearranged her desktop–and sighed.

\------

Twenty minutes later, Tara parked her little hybrid across from Ian’s office building. It was one of the larger skyscrapers in the downtown area. After spending a fortune of quarters on the meter, Tara walked in the front door. She’d been here a couple times before while she was visiting. Before she left the apartment, she’d changed into business pants and a blazer to make her blend in. She walked right up to the elevator like she belonged there and took it up to Ian’s floor.

The tech support floor was full of tiny, identical cubicles. Each one was occupied by someone wearing khaki pants and a pastel yellow shirt. Tara shuddered at the idea of working in a cubicle all day, coming in and having nothing but a tiny space to call her own and zero privacy from anyone who just happened to be passing by. Phones were ringing off the hook, and she could hear fragments of at least three conversations no matter where she was standing. The people who worked here, or really in cubes in general, tried to make the space their own, with pictures or knick knacks or maybe a small poster that would fit behind their computer, but really all the spaces looked the same.

Except Ian’s.

He was easy to spot not only because Tara’s eyes knew where to go, but because he was always out of dress code. He also wasn’t huddled at his desk when she spotted him either. He’d rolled his chair into the middle of the walkway and was talking to a coworker she couldn’t see thanks to the cube walls.

“Maybe a GMILF.” She caught the end of what he was saying and rolled her eyes.

“Come on.” A male voice responded. Tara could practically  _ hear _ his eye roll. But she waved at Ian anyway. He saw her immediately and grinned.

“Coffee break?” He asked whoever he’d been talking to.

“Yeah, for sure.” Another man stood up with Ian and Tara couldn’t stop her sudden intake of breath. This guy was  _ tall _ . And not just your standard 6’1” or 6’2” tall, but  _ taller _ . Like, the cube walls barely made it past his elbows tall. And he was cute too, very cute. His brown hair was messy, but not unkept like Ian’s was. He had a prominent nose, a strong jawline, and his lips were curled into the slightest smile. Not to mention he looked ripped. The company shirt didn’t reveal much, but it was clearly tight across his chest and shoulders.

“Heya, sis!” Ian came over and grabbed his lunch out of her hand. She barely noticed, her breath coming just a little faster as Ian’s coworker followed him over.

“This is Sam.” Ian introduced him before turning to the man in the cube next to them. Sam. Why was that name familiar?

“H-hi.” Tara said to him, “I’m Tara.”

“Sam Wesson.” They shook hands, and Tara became all too aware of how his dwarfed her own. Looking up from his chest, Tara found herself utterly lost in Sam’s eyes. What color even were they?

“Working!” The older man Ian had been talking to snapped, loudly enough to make Sam and Tara jump.

“O-k.” Ian turned away and started walking.

“Well, I’m gonna head home.” Tara started backing up.

“No, wait! Join us for our coffee break?” Ian begged, “Please?” Tara sighed. It wasn’t like she had to be back at a certain time.

“Fine.” She followed them into the break room.

“He seems stressed.” Sam commented on the older man.

“Probably just freaked cause he got busted surfing porn on the Internet.” Tara’s jaw dropped.

“No, no, no. Wait, when?” Sam was just as surprised.

“He got sent up to HR yesterday. Guess they put the fear of God in him.” 

As soon as they were in the break room, and the person who’d been microwaving popcorn left, Ian opened the supply closet and grabbed all four packets of pencils, stuffing them into the pockets of his cargo pants.

“Ian! Dude!” Sam reprimanded when he caught him.

“You’re such a klepto.” Tara shook her head.

“Just doing a little shopping. We’re running low at home.” That was the biggest lie Tara had  _ ever _ heard. Ian closed the closet and took the cup of coffee Sam offered him.

“You want one?” He asked Tara.

“Uh, sure. Thanks.”

“So, Sam.” Ian said as Sam handed Tara her coffee, “Had any of those dreams lately?” Then his name finally clicked.

“Oh, Sam’s the one having the vivid dreams?” Sam flushed, annoyed and embarrassed.

“You told you sister?”

“What? Come on, it’s the highlight of my day and you think I’m gonna keep it a secret from the best sister ever?” Ian opened the lunch Tara had brought him and pulled out his sandwich.

“I never should’ve told you in the first place.” Sam sent Tara a sideways glance. It was one thing to tell his coworker about these, but his coworker’s (very hot) sister?

“They’re genius! Don’t hold out on me, dude. Share with the class.” Tara sipped the tepid coffee, watching Sam’s shoulders and back muscles tense as he turned around.

“You’re just gonna be a dick about it.” He said. Eh, he wasn’t wrong.

“What?! No way! I won’t say a word. Total respect. Go.” Sam glanced at Tara. She was watching him closely, her brown eyes sparkling with interest. He sighed.

“I dreamt I saved a grim reaper named Tessa from demons.” The words had barely left his mouth and Ian burst out laughing. Tara, on the other hand, managed to keep her amusement down to a smile.

“Classic!” Ian finally exclaimed, “How much DnD did you play when you were a kid? Ok, so you’re–” He snickered, “–rescuing the grim reaper. You’re a hero. I mean, thank God we’ve got Harry Potter here to save us all from the Apocalypse.” Sam clenched his jaw.

“Dick.”

“Wizard! I mean, I thought  _ her _ dreams were weird.” Heat flooded Tara’s face.

“Ian!” But Sam’s full attention was already on her.

“You have strange dreams too?”

“Well, not like yours, but…” She tried to think of how to describe them, “Yeah, I guess.”

“What are they?” He leaned with an elbow on the microwave and raised an eyebrow at her. Was he...flirting? Suddenly the heat in Tara’s face was there for a very different reason.

“Nothing, really. It’s just, these past few weeks, when I’m dreaming, I’m a cat.”

“You mean you can turn into a cat?”

“No, I mean, I’m a  _ cat _ . Like, weird vision, hunting rodents, the whole deal.”

“Huh.” Was all he said, but Tara could feel the intensity with which he was looking at her. It was making all sorts of thoughts go through her brain that didn’t belong there while her older brother was in the same room. She cleared her throat.

“Well, I should really be getting back now. I think my parking meter’s almost out.” Sam felt his spirits fall a bit.

“Oh, well, come back soon?”

“Ha, very funny. I don’t work here, I just know how to look like it. Nice meeting you, Sam. See you tonight Ian.”

“Nice meeting you too.”

“See ya tonight, sis. Thanks for the lunch!” Ian called as she walked back towards the elevator. Sam’s eyes followed her ass until she turned out of sight.

“Dude.” Ian smacked his shoulder.

“What?”

“That’s my baby sister. If you’re gonna eyefuck her like that, don’t do it in front of me and at least take her to dinner first.”

“I wasn’t–” But Ian couldn’t hold his serious face anymore and burst out laughing. Sam huffed,  “Dick.”

\------

That night, Tara was waiting for Ian in the kitchen when he got home. He’d gone out to dinner with some old college buddies, so by the time he got back, it was late. He came in, whistling to himself, only to find her standing in front of the fridge–his first stop–with the TV remote in her hand. She had her arms crossed and was tapping her foot on the floor. The only greeting Ian could manage was a guilty smile.

“What’s up?” He asked lamely.

“I’ve been living here with you for what, almost three weeks now? And you’ve  _ never _ forgotten your lunch before.” He shrugged.

“What can I say?”

“You arranged that whole thing, didn’t you? You’re trying to set me up with Sam.” Ian tossed up his hands in defense.

“Hey, he was the one checking out your ass. I just thought you two should meet cause you’ve both been having spooky dreams.”

“Mine aren’t spooky, they’re just weird and–wait, what do you mean he was checking out my ass?” Ian just started laughing, managing to grab the remote and sneak his nightly beer out of the fridge while she struggled to process the idea that someone as attractive as Sam could be interested in the likes of her.

“Hey!” She exclaimed when she realized Ian had gone around her, but it was too late. Ian plopped down on the sofa and switched on his show.

“I’m telling you! You should come by again tomorrow.” Tara rolled her eyes.

“I think I’ll pass. I’d hoped to find a job before now.” She yawned, “I’m going to bed. Please keep the volume down.” Ian promptly turned the TV up three notches, just to piss her off.

“Whatever. Stop trying to set me up with your coworker.” She closed her bedroom door behind her, a little harder than she’d meant to.

\------

The next morning, Tara didn’t get up until she knew Ian was gone. She was still annoyed with him for luring her to his office just to introduce her to his–admittedly hot–colleague. Would she mind spending some more time with Sam? No, not at all. He was very good looking and seemed nice enough. It was just the fact that it was Ian’s idea that made her think twice. She felt ready to get into another relationship. Her breakup with the girlfriend she’d had all through college–Anna–had been completely amicable. So why was she holding back?

She didn’t get much time to think about that once she checked her email. One of the places she’d applied to had asked for an interview tomorrow! So she spent her day preparing for that and half-heartedly checking the status of all her other applications.

This time, when Ian got home, she was waiting with a grin on her face. But that vanished immediately when he didn’t even so much as say hello to her. He just dropped his bag by the door and made to go to bed. No beer, no TV hour, no nothing.

“Bad day at work?” She asked, “What, you find out that Sam’s got a girlfriend so you can’t set me up with him?”

“No, it’s nothing. Good night, Tara.” The use of her actual name took Tara aback, stunning her to silence long enough for Ian to go into his room and close the door behind him. What had his panties in a twist?

Tara never got the chance to ask. Ian was on his way out the door when she emerged from her room the next morning, much earlier than normal.

“Ian?”

“What, Tara?” He stopped in the doorway and looked back, annoyed. She suddenly changed her mind about what she was going to say.

“Nothing. Just, have a good day at work.”

“If it’s a busy day that produces profits, it’ll be a good day.” He gave her a brief smile before leaving Tara standing confused and in the middle of brewing her coffee. It wasn’t until a little while later that she realized that, for once, Ian had been wearing the company shirt. And it looked like he’d shaved too.

Her interview went well. Even as she was leaving, they had informed her that they wanted to bring her in again next week. Tara walked down the sidewalk with a bounce in her step and an extra click thanks to her high heels. She paused, waiting for the crosswalk, and switched her phone back on. There was one missed call, but it was from an unknown number. 

Probably unimportant. She concluded as the light turned and she crossed the street, her shoes clicking with every step and her hips swaying more than usual.

When her phone rang, she barely glanced at the unknown number before she answered it.

“You’ve reached Tara.”

“Hey, Tara.” The familiar voice sent her heart racing, “It’s Sam Wesson. Ian gave me your number yesterday.” He didn’t sound happy for some reason, “Listen, um, you might want to come by Sandover today.” Tara stopped.

“Why, what’s up?”

“Uh, it’s probably best that you come in. I’ll meet you downstairs.”

“Ok, I’ll be there in five. I had an interview just now so I’m close.”

“See you soon.” Sam hung up, leaving Tara perplexed and worried. Had Sam noticed Ian’s weird behavior too?

When Tara got to Sandover, there were two police cars and an ambulance outside.

“What the hell?” Tara quickened her pace. There was a swarm of cops outside the doors, and when she approached, they made to block her.

“I’m sorry, ma’am–”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Sam jogged up from inside, “She’s with me.” He placed a large, warm hand on her shoulder and ushered her inside.

“Sam, what’s going on?” She demanded as soon as they were in the elevator.

\------

Tara sank down into Ian’s chair as Sam filled her in on what had happened, both that morning with Paul, and then just an hour or so ago. He broke it to her as gently as he could, well aware that this was only the second time they’d ever spoken, and managed not to think about how busty she looked in that blazer, or how delicious her ass looked in that pencil skirt. After not being able to get her out of his head, mainly because she’d made an appearance in his dreams, this was the last way he’d wanted to see her again. 

But Tara didn’t shed a single tear. She just kind of...sat there, numb.

“I’m sorry.” Sam said, “I’ll stop going on, you’re probably in shock.”

“No. No I’m not.” Tara shook her head, “Ian was my brother, and I loved him. And I know I should be crying a river right about now, but...I don’t know, it’s like I didn’t really grow up with him, you know? Like I’ve only really known him these past few weeks. And we weren’t particularly close or anything.” Sam nodded slowly.

“And he was acting off last night and this morning, I just figured he’d had a bad day, but–”

“Wait.” Sam stopped her, “What do you mean he was acting off?”

“Just really impatient with me, snappy too. He went straight to bed, didn’t even have his beer. And this morning, he left really early.”

“Like he actually gave a damn about his work?”

“I guess.”

“Huh.” Was all Sam said, “Can ask an odd question?” Tara huffed.

“Today’s been nothing but odd.” She looked up at him, “Shoot.”

“What do you think about...ghosts?”

“What about them?”

“Do you believe in them?”

“I mean, I guess.” She shrugged, “Never really had reason to believe one way or the other. Why?” Before Sam could answer, his desk phone rang. He shot it a dirty look, but sighed.

“Give me a sec.” He picked it up, “Tech support, this is Sam.” Tara heard an urgent male voice on the other end. The only word she caught was the last one: Now. Sam’s jaw clenched and he hung up.

“Feel like coming on a field trip?”

\------

The office of Dean Smith was far larger than Sam’s tiny cubicle downstairs. The whole room had a very sleek and modern feel to it thanks to all the different shades of gray. Although, she wasn’t getting the Christian Gray vibe from the man standing with his back to the door. He was tall, not as tall as Sam, but that wasn’t saying much. 

Seriously, she was wearing heels, could she at least come up to his chin? Apparently not.

Sam knocked on the door to announce their presence, and Dean turned, not seeing Tara at first.

“Come on in. Close the door.” Sam turned to close it, and Dean’s eyes fell on Tara.

“Who are you?” Tara opened her mouth to say something, but the words wouldn’t come. Because she wasn’t sure.

“Ian’s sister.” Sam said quickly. “She’s my guest for the day.”

“Sister? Not sure I see the resemblance, but ok.” Dean leaned on his chair, “And who the hell are you?” He asked Sam.

“I’m not sure I know.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Sam readjusted his bag on his shoulder.

“Sam Wesson. I started here three weeks ago.”

“Alright.” He glanced at Tara, but ultimately decided to just go for it, “You cornered me in the elevator, talking about ghosts. And now…” He swallowed.

“Now what?”

“Now nothing.” He turned away grabbing a large bottle off his bookshelf, “I, uh...so you started working three weeks ago, huh? Me too. And, uh, what about you...?” He realized he didn’t know her name.

“Tara. And I moved in with Ian three weeks ago, I’ve been job hunting.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a translator.” But even as the words came off her tongue, they couldn’t feel more wrong.

“Interesting.” Dean unscrewed the lid off the bottle and took a swig of the liquid inside, “It’s the master cleanse. You two tried it?” Sam and Tara shook their heads, “Phenomenal, it detoxes you like nobody’s business.” He took another drink, grimacing at the taste. Sam narrowed his eyes.

“When you were in that bathroom with Ian...did you see something?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what I saw.”

“Wait. Are you saying that–did you...see a  _ ghost _ ?”

“I was freaking out.” Dean sidestepped the question, “The guy penciled his damn neck.” Then he seemed to remember that Ian’s sister was withing earshot, “Sorry.”

“No, it’s...fine.” Tara shook her head and realized that those words were actually true.

“You did, didn’t you.” Sam pressed, “Ok, listen. What if these suicides aren’t suicides? I mean, what if there’s something….not natural?” Dean could resist a little incredulous smirk.

“So what, ghosts are real? And they’re responsible for all the dead bodies around here? Is that what you’re telling me?” Dean sat down, motioning for Sam and Tara to do the same. There were two chairs on the other side of Dean’s desk, and when she and Sam sat down, his legs were so long that their knees brushed together, sending electric sparks under Tara’s skin.

“Look,” Sam struggled not to glance over at Tara when he felt his knee come into contact with her warm skin, “I know it sounds crazy. But yes, that’s what I’m telling you.”

“Uh-huh. Based on what?”

“Instinct?” Dean glanced down at his desk.

“And what about you, Tara? You buying this?” She nodded slowly.

“Yeah, yeah I am.”

“I’ve got the same instinct.” Dean admitted.

“Seriously?” Sam glanced between them, “You know those dreams I was telling you about?” Dean rubbed a hand down his face but Sam went on, “I was dreaming about ghosts.”

“Yeah?”

“And then it turns out that there’s a  _ real _ ghost.” 

“So you’re telling me that your dreams are special visions and you’re some kind of psychic?”

“No,” Sam scoffed, “I mean, that would be nuts. I’m just saying, something weird is definitely going on around here, right? So I’ve been digging around a little, before I called Tara here.” Sam took some papers out of his bag, “I think I found a connection between the two guys.”

“Wait, you called me here on purpose? Not just to tell me about Ian?” Sam looked like a deer caught in headlights.

“No? Yes, I mean, I did, but–”

“You broke into their email accounts?” Dean got tired of Sam’s blubbering.

“I used...some skills that I happen to have to...satisfy my curiosity.”

“Nice.”

“And what’d you find?” Tara peered over the tops of the papers.

“Yeah, ok. So it turns out Ian and Paul, the other guy I told you about, both got this same email telling them to report to HR, room 1444.”

“HR’s on 7.” Dean said, almost automatically.

“Exactly.” Dean set the papers down, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

“Should we go check this out?”

“Like...right now?” Only then did Tara realize that it was almost five in the evening.

“No. No, it’s getting late, you’re right.” But Tara could tell that Dean didn’t want to do the rational thing and go home.

“I think we should check it out now.”

“Right?”

The fourteenth floor was clearly much older than the ones below, with narrower halls and old radiators, it all smelled very musty. Room 1444 was at the end of a hall, an ominous wooden door with peeling white paint and bars over the frosted glass. And that wasn’t even taking into account the screaming coming from inside.

The three of them ran around the corner, Sam ending up in the lead, but when he tried the handle, the door wouldn’t budge. Sam didn’t hesitate, and a well-placed kick splintered the hinge sent the door inward. Tara’s jaw dropped at the display of strength.

“Woah.” Dean was equally shocked. Sam took a moment to be confused, but also a little impressed with himself, before running into the room. Tara and Dean followed, but he reached the fallen shelving unit first, since Tara wasn’t accustomed to running in heels. Every TV in the room was turned on and displaying static. Tara didn’t know it was possible for one room to have any outlets. It wasn’t like TVs could just turn on when they weren’t plugged in, right? But then again, normally men didn’t just appear and throw people across the room either, and that’s exactly what happened next.

Right as Sam and Dean were about to lift the shelving unit off the poor guy it had fallen on, an old man wearing an equally old, moth bitten suit sent both Sam and Dean flying, then turned on Tara for good measure. His hands slammed into her shoulders and Tara fell flat on her ass. Then, he turned back to the pinned tech guy. Tara struggled to find her balance under her trembling legs. Just how were they supposed to fight a ghost? Before she could think any farther on that, Dean swung a wrench at the guy. It didn’t hit anything solid, but when it made contact, the man’s form vanished in a puff of smoke and sparks. And just like that, every TV in the room shut off.

Sam got to his feet, panting while Tara and Dean lifted the shelving unit to free the other guy.

“How’d you know how to do that?”

“I have no idea.” Dean answered, sounding just as shaken as Tara felt.

\------

The three of them went back to Dean’s house, just outside the city across the river, and the whole way there, Dean didn’t stop sipping his detox juice.

“Holy crap, guys.” He said, pacing while Tara and Sam leaned against his sofa.

“Yeah. I could use a beer.”

“Screw beer, I want whiskey.”

“Sorry, guys. I’m on the cleanse. I got rid of all the carbs in the house.” He got them some water instead.

“Hey, how the hell did you know that ghosts are scared of wrenches?”

“Crazy, right? And nice job kicking in that door too, that was very Jet Li. Hey, Hershey what’s your workout routine? You lifted those shelves like they were nothing.”

“Oh, it wasn’t nothing.” She said, rubbing her bicep, “I’ll be feeling it tomorrow.”

“Yeah, well, I’m sure black belt over there will be feeling it too.” Sam laughed a bit.

“I’m not a black belt. I have no clue how I did that. It’s like...we’ve done this before.”

“What do you mean ‘before’? Like Shirley MacLaine before?” Tara rolled her eyes at the reference.

“Yeah, because that happens in real life.”

“True,” Sam placed a hand on her thigh briefly, making her heart jump, “But I just can’t shake this feeling like I–like I don’t belong here, do you know what I mean? Like I should do something more than sit in a cubicle.”

“I think most people who work in a cubicle feel that same way.” Dean pointed out.

“No, look it’s more than that.” Sam stood up straight, “Like, I don’t like my job, I don’t like this town, I don’t like my clothes, I don’t like my own last name.” Dean leaned on the sofa next to Tara, but she was too caught up in her own mind to notice. Sam was voicing a lot of the same feelings she’d been having these past few weeks. That feeling that she didn’t fit somehow.

“I don’t know how else to explain it, except that...it feels like I should be doing something else. There’s just...something in my blood. Like I was destined for something different. What about you two? You ever feel that way.” 

“I know what you mean.” Tara murmured, “You thought I was in shock earlier, from Ian, but it would’ve worn off by now. I don’t know.” Her hand went up as if to grab something around her neck, but there was nothing.

“I don’t believe in destiny.” Dean said frankly, “I do believe in dealing with what’s right in front of us, though.” Sam shrugged a bit. It wasn’t quite the answer he was looking for, but it was good enough.

“We do what I do best, Sammy.” Dean stood up straight, “Research.”

“Ok.” Dean started walking towards his desk.

“Did you just call me Sammy?” Sam asked, his nose wrinkled in a cute way.

“Did I?”

“I think so.” Tara squinted at nothing, “And I think you called me Hershey earlier too.”

“Don’t.” Sam cringed, “Don’t call me Sammy.”

“Sorry.” Dean pointed at Tara, “You cool, though?” She nodded.

“Yep. I’m cool.”

After a couple hours of researching and far too much time watching ‘instructional videos’ by a couple of goofballs who had a serious hate-on for some guys named Winchester, they figured out that the ghost who was killing people was P.T. Sandover, the founder of the company. Figuring out his motive was pretty simple, given that he had no life outside of work. 

Also, as it turned out, ghosts weren’t afraid of wrenches, just that one of their weak spots was iron. The other one was salt. And while they couldn’t just go out and buy a shotgun, Dean  _ did _ have an unreasonably large amount of table salt for one person.

The only hitch was that Sandover was cremated, so they were going to have to go and comb his old office for a century-old scrap of DNA. But at least they didn’t have to go dig up a body.

\------

Back at Sandover, the building was completely deserted. They only got into the building thanks to Dean’s high level access card–Sam’s wouldn’t have cut it. They had a little duffel bag with all the supplies the Ghostfacers had recommended, and for the first time in these past three weeks, Tara felt herself getting excited. Nervous, but still more excited than when she’d gotten that interview.

Looking between Sam and Dean on either side of her, she couldn’t help but feel like...this was where she belonged. And especially when she looked at Sam. There was a certain fluttering in her chest that made her feel all warm inside.

Up in Sandover’s office, Dean and Tara looked through the shelves while Sam rummaged around in the old desk. Tara was looking for anything that could be DNA, but at this point she figured a hair was most likely. That ghost had been in serious need of a visit to the barber. Tara straightened up after searching one of the lower shelves, brushing her hands off on her skirt, and sighed. How could something still be here after so many years?

“What the hell are you doing here?” She jumped at the hostile voice and ducked down. A security guard had some into the office and confronted Sam.

“Uh...nothing, I just–”

“Come with me.” Through the shelves, Tara saw him take Sam by the upper arm. The man escorted Sam none-so-gently out of the office, closing the door behind him.

“What now?” Tara asked Dean.

“I don’t know. Keeping looking, I guess? With Sam’s karate skills, he’ll be fine.”

“I guess.” Tara finished searching the next row of shelves and wandered over to the desk where she picked up a picture under a stack of files. It was old, the black and white image faded and yellowed with time. Dean looked over her shoulder.

“Son of a bitch.”

“What?” But before Dean could answer, a massive commotion came from their phones, and Tara heard Sam gasp loudly.

“Hey, you ok?” For several long, tense moments, there was nothing but silence and the sound of Sam’s heavy breathing. When his voice came over the line, it was high and shaky.

“Call you back.” He hung up.

While Dean and Tara waited for Sam to call back, Dean explained his theory about where they could find some DNA, but then the conversation fell stagnant.

“Hey, I’m sorry you got dragged into this.” Dean finally said.

“I don’t mind.” Tara shrugged, “It’s the most fun I’ve had since I moved in with Ian.”

“And why did you do that, by the way. If you don’t mind my asking. But as a translator, wouldn’t your best bet be to go to DC?”

“Yeah, but...I don’t know. Honestly I feel like that’s been my answer to just about every question today.” That interview seemed like a lifetime ago.

“And why tag along with us? Not that I’m trying to get rid of you, but for all you know we could be serial killers.” Tara laughed at that.

“Right, because Sam working in a cubicle and you going on some insane, no-carb cleanse really screams ‘serial killer’. I don’t know,” There was that annoying little phrase again, “Normally I wouldn’t just go home with two guys I’d only just met and then hunt a ghost with them. But you guys just seemed...trustworthy. I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Huh.” But then Tara’s phone rang, sparing her having to respond to Dean further.

“Hey, Sam.”

“You guys both there?” Tara put him on speaker.

“Listen,” Dean said without preamble, “I think I got it. Meet us on 22.”

“Ok, yeah. Just, uh...take the stairs.” Tara gulped, and shifted her weight from one high heel to the other.

Despite her footwear, she and Dean still beat Sam to the founder’s exhibit on the top floor. When Sam arrived, Tara was shocked to see his yellow shirt spattered with blood. Just what had he done to that guard?

“Woah. That’s a lot of blood.” It seemed Dean had the same thought. Now that Sam was closer, Tara could see that it was also smeared on his neck. Not that she’d been looking at his neck deliberately.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Right. So, uh, in there.” Dean pointed at a glass case in the display.

“P.T. Sandover’s gloves.”

“Yeah. How much do you wanna bet there’s a little smidge of DNA in there? You know, like a fingernail clipping or a hair or two. Something.”

“More likely there than in his office.” Tara said.

“So, you ready?” Tara looked at the gloves and experienced one last moment of doubt. Could burning these gloves really get rid of the ghost she’d definitely seen less than six hours ago?

“I have no idea.” Dean admitted.

“Me neither.” But they bent down for the duffel anyway.

“Can I?” Tara’s hand hovered over the fire poker.

“Go for it.” Sam encouraged. Slightly giddy, Tara grabbed the iron instrument and swung hard. The glass casing shattered loudly, but as soon as it did, Tara felt the temperature in the air drop. Goosebumps broke out on her arms and her breath plumed in front of her. Sam jumped, his eyes locked on something behind her.

A hand grabbed her blazer and suddenly, Tara was flying across the room. She hit the wall hard, landing hard on her knees as she went down. Sandover also made quick work of Sam and Dean, throwing them against the opposite wall. Then he approached slowly, like the guy from earlier. Tara scrambled to her feet, but Sam whipped some salt through the air and Sandover vanished.

“Nice.” Dean said. But then Sandover appeared behind him.

“Dean!” Tara threw him the poker. Dean caught it and swung, making Sandover go up in a puff of smoke.

“Good throw. Sam was looking at her in admiration.

“Right?” Dean swung the poker around a bit. They regrouped back by the glove case, and Sam and Tara each grabbed a crowbar.

Sandover appeared and disappeared a few times. All three of them were in sync, swinging whenever they saw him, but soon he outwitted them, appearing behind Sam while Tara and Dean were looking away. He threw Sam into a light on the wall, making it shatter, then he sent Tara flying back towards the stairwell and Dean over to the elevator. Tara cried out as she felt the smooth tile floor skin her knee, dropping her crowbar in favor of applying pressure around the wound in an effort to stop the stinging. 

Meanwhile, Sam was back on his feet going for the glove case. Tara pulled herself back up as well, reclaiming her crowbar and running to Sam, in case Sandover decided to switch targets. Sam grabbed the old, dry leather gloves out of their case and took out his lighter. After a couple tries, the flame stuck, and the gloves began to burn. 

Over by the elevator, Sandover’s form went up in a shower of sparks and Tara let herself breathe easily again. She and Sam headed over to Dean, who was shaken, but unhurt.

“That was amazing.” Sam said, breathless. Tara looked up at him, a smile spreading across her face.

“Yeah it was.”

“Right? Right?!” Dean was just as giddy as the two of them.

\------

Back in Dean’s office, he got out the first aid kit so the three of them could tend to their injuries.

“Man, I gotta tell you I’ve never had so much fun in my life.”

“God, me too.”

“Me neither.” Dean joined her and Sam in sitting on his desk.

“It was a hell of a workout too, wasn’t it?”

“If by ‘workout’ you mean ‘heart attack-inducing’, then yeah.” Tara laughed. But she wouldn’t have it any other way.

“We should keep doing this. The three of us.” Dean laughed.

“I know.” He handed Tara some antiseptic and a large band-aid.

“I mean it. There’s gotta be other ghosts out there. We could help a lot of people.”

“Yeah, right we’d be like the Ghostfacers.” Dean joked. But the more Tara considered it, the more appealing it sounded. More so than becoming a translator for wherever she’d interviewed.

“No, really. I mean, for real.” Dean finally seemed to realize that Sam wasn’t joking.

“What, quit our jobs and hit the road?”

“Exactly!”

“How would we live?” Sam struggled to find an immediate answer, so Dean went on, “Come on, you’ve gotta be kidding me? How would we get by, huh? With stolen credit cards, eating diner food drenched in saturated fats? Sharing a crap motel room every night?” Some diner food sounded good right about now.

“That’s all just details.”

“Details are everything!” Tara rubbed her mouth to hide a smile. There were two types of people, “You don’t wanna go fighting ghosts without any health insurance.” Sam went quiet for a few moments as he tried to find the best way to put this.

“Alright, uh, confession.”

“What?”

“Remember those dreams I told you about? With the ghosts?”

“Yeah.” Tara nodded.

“I was fighting them.”

“Ok.”

“With  _ you _ . With both of you.” He turned to look more directly at Tara, “We were...these, like...hunters. And we were friends…” He trailed off, “More like brothers, really.”

“So what? Miss pencil skirt and high heels here is one of the guys?” Dean gave her a playful jab on the shoulder, making Tara laugh.

“No, not...quite.” Sam wasn't sure he wanted to define the relationship he seemed to have with the brunette in his dreams, “But I mean what if that’s who we really are? You saw us back there, working together. The ghost was scrambling people’s brains, what if it scrambled ours?”

“That’s insane.” Dean picked Tara’s bandaid garbage wrapper and went to toss it.

“Is it?” Sam challenged, “Think about it for just one second. What if we think this is our life, but it’s not?” He looked intently at Tara, “Help me out here.” But all she could do was open and close her mouth soundlessly.

“Hey, man the ghost is dead and we’re still standing. I’m mean, I’m sorry, but–”

“Look, all I know is this isn’t who we’re supposed to be.”

“No. I’m Dean Smith, ok? Director of Sales and Marketing. I went to Stanford, my father’s name is Bob, my mother’s name is Ellen, and my sister’s name is Jo.”

“When’s the last time you talked to them? To any of them?” Tara looked back. It  _ had _ been awhile since she’d spoken to any of her friends from school, but Dean wasn’t willing to be so open minded.

“Ok, you’re upset, you’re confused–”

“Yeah, cause I only moved here cause I just broke up with my fiancée, Madison. But I called her number and I got a damn animal hospital.” Tara swallowed hard, trying to quench the horrible feeling of rejection. Even if she was ready to get back out there, Sam probably wasn’t.

“Are you trying to say that my family isn’t real?” She heard Dean saying, “That we’ve been injected with fake memories, that Tara hasn’t had an older brother named Ian her whole life? Come on!”

“All I know is I got this feeling in my gut. And I know, I know that deep down, you gotta be feeling it too. We’re supposed to be something else. You’re not just some corporate douchebag; this isn’t you! I know you.” Tara flinched a bit at the insult despite it not being directed at her.

“Know me? You don’t know me, pal. And neither of us know Tara. You should go. Both of you, I’m sorry.” The last part was more gentle, directed at Tara. Sam said nothing after that. He just turned around and walked right out of Dean’s office.

Tara bit her lip, looking from the door, to Dean, and back again.

“See you around.” She finally said before going after Sam.

Sam drove her home, since Tara was tired and it was late. Most of the ride was in silence, but right as they were pulling up outside her building, Sam broke it.

“You feel it too, right? That something’s really, really wrong?” She did, she just didn’t know what it meant.

“All I know is that I’ve been awake for twenty hours now. I had a job interview, lost my brother, climbed up eight flights of stairs in heels, and fought a ghost. I’m exhausted.”

“But you have to feel it, you–”

“I don’t know what I feel.” Empty. She felt empty at the thought of going back into Ian’s–her apartment now. At the thought of having that second round interview next week. Tara opened the passenger door and got out.

“Thanks for the ride.”

“Give it some thought, please? Call me.” She glanced at the sidewalk. Under any other circumstances, she would’ve loved to hear him say that.

“Maybe.” She closed the door. Sam waited until she made it inside the building and into the elevator before he drove off into the night.

\------

Tara laid in bed. She’d been awake for hours, but hadn’t brought herself to get up. She just didn’t really feel like it. The sun was up, and that feeling of wrongness was still there in her stomach. If anything, Sam’s words had driven it deeper. Her phone rang. She knew it was the company, to arrange a time for the second interview.

Tara let it go to voicemail.

Then she picked up her phone and scrolled through her contacts, her thumb hovering over the name. Anna Milton.

She dialed the number. The phone rang once before someone answered.

“Thank you for calling Visiting Angels, how may I help you?” Tara hung up, the last of her resistance crumbling away. 

She called Sam.

Half an hour later, he was in her apartment, listening to her go on about the phone call, and how nothing else felt right.

“But I still don’t understand.” She took a breath at last.

“Understand what?” He asked gently, leaning against the sofa while she paced in the galley kitchen.

“In your dreams, you said you and Dean are like brothers. But you never said where I fit in to that.” Sam looked away, rubbing the back of his neck

“You’re a friend, definitely. Not a childhood friend, but a close friend. But…”

“But...?” Tara prompted.

“It always feels like there’s something...more. Between us.”

“And is there?”

“Well, um...I don’t really know, I mean, I’ve never dreamt about us...having…” He blushed heavily, and Tara felt her own face growing warm, “It just always feels...complicated.”

“And what about now?” Where had that come from?! She hadn’t meant to voice that thought! But she had Sam’s full attention, so she had to roll with it, “Does it still feel complicated?” He pushed off the sofa, taking a step towards her.

“Not nearly as much.” He took another, “The question is,” There was only a few inches of space between them now, and Tara could feel the body heat radiating off of him. Sam bent down, whispering in her ear, his breath making her hair flutter ever so slightly.

“Does this feel right to you?” Her breath caught in her throat, her heart racing a mile a minute, but Tara still managed to answer.

“Yes.” She wasn’t sure which one of them moved first, but before she could register what was happening, Sam’s lips were in contact with her own. She gasped, her arms wrapping around him, fingers spreading on the broad expanse of his shoulders and back. Sam’s arms snaked around her waist, tugging her against him, one hand coming up to the base of her neck while the other settled low on her hip.

It felt so  _ right _ . Just being here, with him, felt more right to Tara than anything else had these last weeks. And she didn’t want it to stop. She pulled back a second to take a breath and kissed him again. The smell of him filled her nose and she felt every single muscle in his torso flex as he lifted her off the floor and onto the counter. She wrapped her legs firmly around his waist, pressing herself against him and deepening the kiss, but then something happened. 

Like someone flipped a switch in her head.

She and Sam both pulled back with a groan, resting their foreheads together while they struggled to make sense of all the information that had just come back to them. Tara’s breath was coming in pants when she opened her eyes, only to find Sam’s gorgeous ones staring back at her. Then she became aware that she was still sitting on the counter, with her legs wrapped tightly around his waist.

And he’d thought it was complicated before.


	26. The Monster at the End of This Book

Three days.

It had been three days since Tara, Sam, and Dean returned from the office world. Three days since Sam had kissed her like there was no tomorrow, lifted her up on that counter and made her heart race like she’d just run marathon.

Three days since she’d spoken a single word to him.

She’d wanted to take a step  _ back _ from him. To figure out what he wanted from her before anything physical happened. 

And then she’d woken up with his tongue practically in her mouth.

He’d tried to talk to her, to apologize for crossing her boundaries so badly like that. But she’d just backed away, told him it was fine, that neither of them had known what they were doing. She acknowledged that, in that moment, she had wanted him to kiss her, and with his knowledge at the time, he hadn’t done anything wrong.

After that, though, she hadn’t said a word to him.

She didn’t all-out ignore him, when the three of them were having a conversation, she’d acknowledge that he’d spoken, but she did everything in her power to make sure she wasn’t alone with him.

Sam was hurt by Tara’s actions, but in a way, be understood them. She felt violated. Not by him, but by the angels who erased her memory temporarily, and she needed some time to put herself back together. But it still wasn’t easy for him to see her struggle to sit across from him in a diner without fidgeting.

Dean was pissed about the whole situation, as usual. These past couple days, he’d been playing the middle man, getting a sense for how Tara and Sam felt separately, and then making sure the other one found out. He was trying to lessen the awkwardness that built up in the air when Sam and Tara were within ten feet of each other but it wasn’t going fast enough for his taste.

This was their first case since their unplanned sabbatical. They’d caught wind of a ghost who liked to show up every few years and haunt a few different units in the downtown area of the town they were in. While he and Sam went to investigate and ask around, Tara had all but begged to stay behind and do research. If only to spend some time away from Sam–not that she’d said that bit aloud.

The room was quiet while they were gone, and Tara found peace in this rare moment alone. She was finally able to concentrate on her research and play some of her own music quietly in the background. She knew she needed to stop taking all this out on Sam. And she would. Just as soon as she could look at him without getting hot under the collar.

\------

Sam and Dean returned to the motel suddenly, bursting into the room each with a plastic bag hanging from an arm. Dean threw his down on his bed, and Tara’s eyebrows shot up when a bunch of paperbacks fell out.

“If I’d known you guys were going to raid Barnes & Noble, I would’ve come along.”

“We didn’t. These are from that bargain bookstore.” Dean’s face looked like it had frozen in a state of shock.

“Ok?” Tara went to pick up one of the books, but Dean got all flustered, trying to shoo her away.

“What?”

“These books…” Sam rummaged through his bag and pulled out a specific one, “They’re our story.”

“Excuse me?” She took the book he offered and read the back, “So the characters Sam and Dean. They’re...you two?” She looked back and forth between the brothers.

“Yeah. The question is,” Dean picked a book out of the pile on his bed, “How much does this Carver Edlund know?”

“This is freakin’ insane.” Dean said, the first words spoken in over an hour. Sam had been researching over at the coffee table while Dean and Tara reclined on their beds reading, “How’s this guy know all this stuff?”

“You got me.”

“Everything is in here. I mean  _ everything _ . From the racist truck, to me having sex. I’m full frontal in here, dude.”

“Ugh.” Tara shuddered, “Ok, the angels can windex  _ that _ image from my memory.” Sam looked equally disgusted.

“How come we haven’t heard of them before?” Dean rolled over and Tara sat up, but not before earmarking her page for later. They both joined Sam at the coffee table.

“They’re pretty obscure. I mean, almost zero circulation, uh, started in ‘05. The publisher put out a couple dozen before going bankrupt. And, uh, the last one– _ No Rest for the Wicked _ –ends with you going to Hell.” Tara let out a little breath. At least  _ she _ wasn’t in these things.

“I reiterate. Freaking insane.” He started scrolling through Sam’s computer, “Check it out. There’s actually  _ fans _ . Not many, but still. Did you read this?”

“Yeah.”

“Well for fans, they sure do complain a lot.” Tara laughed.

“Welcome to fandom, Dean. Where everyone has a complaint, a headcanon, and a ship.”

“Listen to this; Simpatico says ‘the demon storyline is trite, clichéd, and overall craptastic.’ Yeah, well screw you, Simpatico. We lived it.” Sam laughed.

“Yeah, keep on reading. It gets better.”

“‘There are Sam girls and Dean girls and–’ what’s a slash fan?” Tara choked on air and covered her face with both hands. Sam laughed at her reaction.

“Hershey? What is it?”

“Nope. I–no. Uh-uh. Sam, please.” She gestured from him to Dean, looking steadily at the floor, her face red as a tomato. 

“Come on. It can’t be that bad. What’s a slash fan?”

“As in Sam slash Dean. Together.” Tara could pinpoint the instant Dean realized what Sam meant.

“Like,  _ together _ -together?” Like what he wanted Sam and Tara to be?

“Yeah.”

“They do know we’re  _ brothers _ , right?”

“Doesn’t seem to matter.”

“Oh, come on. That…that’s just sick.” Dean looked like he was going to puke, so Tara grabbed the laptop.

“Ok, that’s enough fandom for one day.”

“We gotta find this Carver Edlund.”

“Yeah, that might not be so easy.”

“Why not?”

“No tax records, no known address. Looks like ‘Carver Edlund’ is a pen name.”

“Somebody’s gotta know who he is.”

\------

So they tracked down the publisher, a preppy-type woman in her late twenties with  _ Supernatural _ posters all over her home.

“So you published the  _ Supernatural _ books?” Sam was trying to avoid looking at the posters.

“Yep. Yeah, gosh. These books…” Oh no. Tara knew a superfan when she saw one, “You know, they never really got the attention they deserved. All anybody wants to read anymore is that romance crap. You know,  _ Doctor Sexy, M.D. _ ? Please.”

“Right, well we’re hoping that our article can shine a light on an underappreciated series.”

“Yeah! Yeah, because, you know if we got a little bit of good press, then maybe we could start publishing again!”

“No, no, no. God no.” Dean protested, but then struggled to cover for himself, “I mean, why–why would you want to do that? You know, it’s, uh, such a complete series what with Dean going to Hell and all.”

“Oh my God! That was one of my favorite ones!” The crazy eyes came out, “Because Dean was so...strong and sad and brave. And Sam. I mean, the best parts are when they cry. You know, like, in  _ Heart _ . When Sam had to kill Madison, the first woman since Jessica he really loved.” Sam shifted uncomfortably next to her but Tara was too lost in her head to notice. She’d known about Jessica, and had been reading about her in the first book back at the motel, but she’d never known about this Madison girl.

“If only real men were so open and in touch with their feelings.” The publisher’s turning away brought her back to the room, where she caught Sam glancing down at her. Tara looked away quickly.

“Real men?”

“I mean, no offense.” The fangirl voice totally vanished, “How often do you cry like that, hmm?”

“Right now I’m crying on the inside.”

“Is that supposed to be funny?”

“Lady, this whole thing is funny.”

“How do I know you three are legit, hmm?” She sat down at her desk.

“Oh, trust me. We’re legit.”

“Well, I don’t want any smart-ass article making fun of my boys.” Tara rolled her eyes. This woman had no idea, but she threw in her assurances with the Winchesters that the article wouldn’t bash them.

“We are actually, um, big fans.” Sam said.

“You’ve read the books?”

“Cover to cover.”

“What’s the year and model of the car?”

“1967 Chevy Impala.” Dean grinned cheekily. This was going to be too easy.

“What’s May 2nd?”

“That’s my–um, that’s  _ Sam’s _ birthday.”

“January 24th is Dean’s.”

“Sam’s score in the LSAT?”

“One...seventy four?” He was unsure, but the publisher bought it.

“Jessica’s major?”

“Pre-med.” Tara jumped in quickly.

“Dean’s favorite song?”

“It’s a tie between Zep’s “Ramble On” and “Traveling Riverside Blues”.” The publisher smiled.

“Ok. Ok, what do you wanna know?”

“What’s Carver Edlund’s real name?” Just like that, the smile went away.

“Oh, no. Sorry, I can’t.” 

“We just wanna talk to him. You know, get the  _ Supernatural _ story in his words.”

“He’s very private. Like Salinger.”

“Please.” Sam unzipped his jacket a bit, and Tara’s eyes went straight to his chest, “Like I said, we are um, big, big fans.” He pulled his collar down, displaying the tattoo. Tara was sure that was the most skin this publisher had been in ages, given face she was making. She looked to Dean, and in unison, Tara and Dean pulled their own collars down. The publisher licked her lips, and Tara was pretty sure she’d totally forgotten she was there.

“Awesome.” She giggled and stood up, “You know what?” She lifted her skirt, “I got one too.” Tara found herself just as mesmerized by the ink as Sam and Dean.

“Woah. You  _ are  _ a fan.” The published giggled, but became professional again as soon as she met Tara’s eyes.

“His name’s Chuck Shirley, and he’s a genius, so don’t piss him off.” She wrote the address down on a notepad for them.

\------

They arrived at the address early the next morning. It belonged to a ramshackle house on the outskirts of a suburb. They walked up the front steps to the door in silence, each of them filled with trepidation for their own private reasons. After one last exchange of glances between them, Dean pressed the doorbell forcefully.

A few moments later, the door opened to reveal a short man in wearing a bathrobe over his boxers and undershirt. His sandy brown hair was unkept, and from the way he was squinting, he was hungover.

“You Chuck Shirley?” Dean asked.

“The Chuck Shirley who wrote the  _ Supernatural _ books?”

“Maybe. Why?”

“I’m Dean, this is Sam. The Dean and Sam you’ve been writing about.” Dean introduced them. Sam had conveniently stepped in front of Tara so Chuck couldn’t see her. Chuck promptly shut the door in their faces. Dean rang the doorbell, and Chuck opened the door again.

“Look, uh, I appreciate your enthusiasm, I really do. It’s, uh, it’s always nice to hear from the fans. But, for your own good, I strongly suggest you get a life.” He tried to shut the door, but Dean was ready this time. He placed a strong forearm against the door and stopped it in its tracks.

“See, here’s the thing. We have a life. You’ve been using it to write your books.” He forced his way into the house, and Sam and Tara followed.

“Now, wait a minute.” Chuck was backpedaling fast, “Now, this isn’t funny. And who–who is she?”

“She’s a friend, and damn straight, it’s not funny.”

“Look, we just wanna know how you’re doing it.”

“I’m not doing anything!” Chuck insisted.

“Are you a hunter?”

“What? No, I’m a writer.”

“Then how do you know so much about demons? And tuplas and changelings?” Chuck fell backwards onto his sofa.

“Is this come kind of  _ Misery _ thing? Ah, it is, isn’t it? It’s a  _ Misery _ thing!”

“It’s not a  _ Misery _ thing. Believe me–we are not fans.”

“Well then what do you want?!”

“I’m Sam and that’s Dean.” Sam tried to say again.

“Sam and Dean are fictional characters. I made them up! They’re not real!”

Sam and Dean nearly dragged Chuck out of his house to show him the trunk of the Impala. 

“Are those real guns?”

“Yup. This is real rock salt,” He patted one of their many bags, “And these are real fake IDs.” He opened their box. Chuck grinned and chuckled a bit.

“Well I gotta hand it to you guys. You really are my number one fans.” He was getting more nervous by the second, “I–I think I’ve got some posters in the house–” He tried to make a run for it, but Tara grabbed his arm.

“Chuck, stop.”

“Ple–wait, please. Don’t hurt me.” He cowered back, and Tara let him go.

“How much do you know? Do you know about the angels? Or Lilith breaking the seals?” Sam asked.

“Wait a minute, how do  _ you _ know about that?”

“The question is how do  _ you _ .” Dean turned it back on him.

“Cause I wrote it.” Tara could hear the ‘duh’ at the end of his sentence.

“You kept writing?” Oh  _ no _ . Did that mean what Tara thought it meant?

“Yeah, even after the publisher went bankrupt, but those books never came out.”

“Good to know, because I’m Tara, and I don’t want to be a part of a book series.”

“Ok, wait a minute.” Chuck laughed again, “This is some kind of joke, right? Did that–did Phil put you up to this?”

“Well, nice to meet you. I’m Dean Winchester, and this is my brother, Sam and our friend, Tara Jones.” At that, Chuck’s amused look fell.

“The last names were never in the books.” He was looking between the three of them, “I never told anybody that, I never even wrote that down.”

Back inside–Chuck had actually invited them in this time–the author managed to find himself some alcohol before turning to face Sam, Dean, and Tara. When he saw them, he rubbed his eyes and groaned.

“Ugh, you’re still there.”

“Yup.”

“You’re not a hallucination.”

“Nope.”

“Well, there’s only one explanation. Obviously I’m a god.” Tara snickered, and had to clamp a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing harder.

“You’re not a god.”

“How else do you explain it? I write things and then they come to life. Yeah, no I’m definitely a god. A cruel, cruel, capricious god. The things I put you through; the physical beatings alone.”

“We’re still in one piece.” Dean brushed him off, not wanting to think about it.

“I killed your father. I burned your mother alive, and then you had to go through the whole horrific deal again with Jessica.” Sam clenched his jaw.

“Chuck–”

“All for that? All for the sake of literary symmetry. And Tara, now you too. I toyed with your lives, your emotions, for...entertainment.”

“You didn’t toy with us, Chuck, ok? You didn’t create us.”

“Did you really have to live through the bugs?”

“Yeah.”

“What bugs?” Tara asked.

“Book eight. It’s...not my best work. What about the ghost ship?”

“Yes, that too.”

“I am...so sorry. I mean, horror is one thing, but to be forced to live bad writing….if I’d known it was real, I would’ve done another pass.”

“Chuck, you’re not a god!”

“We think you’re probably just psychic.”

“No.” He shook his head, “If I was psychic, do you think I’d be writing? Writing is hard!”

“It seems that somehow you’re just...focused on our lives.”

“Yeah, like, laser focus.”

“You said you never stopped writing.” Tara said, “What are you working on now?”

“Holy crap.”

“What?” In response, Chuck picked a stack of papers out of the mess on his desk.

“The, uh, latest book, it’s, uh, it’s kinda weird.”

“Weird how?”

“It’s very...Vonnegut.”

“ _ Slaughterhouse-Five _ Vonnegut or  _ Cat’s Cradle _ Vonnegut?”

“It’s, uh,  _ Kilgore Trout _ Vonnegut. I wrote myself into it.” Tara’s jaw dropped, “I wrote myself...at my house...confronted by my characters.”

“Nope.” Dean stood up and walked out, “Nope, uh-uh.” Sam sighed, rolling his eyes a bit.

“Look, can we take that?” He reached for the papers that Chuck was holding.

“Sure, I guess.” He handed them over reluctantly, and Sam and Tara followed Dean out the door.

\------

They went over to the local laundromat because they were all on their last clean outfits. Once Dean had his washer running, he sat down and started reading from the manuscript.

“I’m sitting in a laundromat reading about myself sitting in a laundromat reading about myself.” He read while Tara sorted through her dirty clothes, “My head hurts.”

“There’s gotta be something this guy’s not telling us.” Sam picked up a pile of clothes and turned to the nearest washer.

“Sam tossed it gigantic darks into the machine. He was starting to have doubts about Chuck, about whether he was telling the whole truth.” Sam turned around.

“Stop it.”

“Stop it, Sam said.” Dean recited, “Guess what you do next.” Sam gave Dean a bitchface and went to take his whites out of the washer.

“Sam turned his back on Dean, his face brooding, pensive. Meanwhile Tara separated her denims from her cottons and flannels, careful to keep her lacey undergarments hidden from the boy’s eyes.” Tara’s hands froze in the middle of stuffing her bras into the dark mesh bag she washed them in. She became very aware that both Dean’s and Sam’s eyes were on her.

“Shut up.” She swept her larger load into the machine.

“Shut up, Tara said, unaware that a single pair of black lace–” Heat flooded her body as she snatched the panties up off the floor, throwing it in with the rest of the clothes. She knew both Winchesters had seen them, and she couldn’t quite bring herself to look Sam in the eye. Sam, who turned right back to the washing machine when Dean wiggled his eyebrows at him.

“I mean, I don’t know how he’s doing it, but this guy is doing it. I can’t see your face, and I don’t know what your shoulders look like when they’re ‘tense with arousal’, but those definitely aren’t your brooding and pensive shoulders anymore.” Tara’s jaw dropped and the heat in her face increased tenfold. Dean paused when he read the next bit, “You just thought I was a dick.” Sam stopped what he was doing, and twisted to face Dean.

“The guy’s good.” Tara giggled as the smug look on Dean’s face vanished. Sam felt warmth flicker in his chest at the sound. It was a good thing to hear again.

\------

The following morning saw Tara, Sam, and Dean back at Chuck’s. He was actually  _ dressed _ today, much to Tara’s relief, and he’d written the next part of his–their?–story. 

“So you wrote another chapter?” Sam prompted after Chuck just stood there looking at the pages in his hands.

“This was all so much easier before I knew you were real.”

“We can take it, just spit it out.” Chuck took a deep breath, and addressed Dean directly.

“You especially are  _ not _ gonna like this.” He looked at Tara, “And neither are you.”

“Great.” Tara crossed her arms.

“I didn’t like Hell.” Dean shot back.

“It’s Lilith.” Chuck finally said, “She’s coming for Sam.” Tara couldn’t help the sharp intake of breath.

“Coming to kill him?”

“When?” There was an edge to Sam’s voice that she didn’t like at all.

“Tonight.” Tara looked at her watch. That gave them only about twelve hours to prepare!

“She’s just gonna show up? Here?”

“Uh,” Chuck put on his glasses, sat down, and leafed through the pages until he found the passage he was looking for, “Lilith patted the bed seductively. Unable to deny his desire, Sam succumbed and they sank into the throes of fiery, demonic passion.” Tara glanced down and bit the inside of her cheek as Sam laughed, incredulous.

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“You think this is funny?”

“You don’t? I mean, come on! Fiery demonic passion?”

“It’s just a first draft.”

“Wait, wait, wait. Lilith is a little girl.” Dean stopped the brewing argument about the nuances of writing.

“No, uh, this time she’s a comely dental hygienist from Bloomington, Indiana.”

“Great. Perfect.” Dean clenched his jaw and looked at Sam, “So what happens after the fiery demonic whatever?”

“I don’t know. That hasn’t come to me yet.”

“What do you mean ‘come to you’?” Tara asked.

“Dean, look. There’s nothing to worry about.  _ Lilith  _ and  _ me _ ? In  _ bed _ ?” He looked a little grossed out by the idea, but maybe that was just Tara’s wishful thinking.

“Hershey has a point–how’s this whole psychic thing of yours work?”

“You mean my process?”

“Yes.” Dean rolled his eyes, “Your ‘process’.”

“Well, it usually starts with a headache, a really bad headache. Aspirin is useless, so I drink until I fall asleep. The first time it happened, I thought it was just a crazy dream.”

“The first time you dreamt about us?”

“It flowed. It just...kept flowing. It still does, I can’t stop it, really.” But Sam still wasn’t sold.

“You can’t seriously believe–”

“Humor me.” Dean got up, “Look, why don’t we just…” He trailed off when he noticed Chuck offering him the manuscript. He looked up at Dean, then down at the floor sheepishly.

“Take a look at these and see what’s what.” 

“Wait. Chuck did you–”

“Know he was gonna ask for that? Yeah.” Her heart sank. If Chuck was right about even the smallest details, he was probably right about the big picture too.

As soon as the doors of the Impala were shut, Dean gunned the engine and made for the road out of town. While he drove, Sam read through the manuscript. Tara wanted to read it too, but that would’ve meant peering over his shoulder and being close enough to smell his cologne.

“Dean, come on.” Sam said at last before reading from the page, “The minivan accident wasn’t that bad, but Dean was still seeing stars. He scratched absently at the pink flower band-aids on his face.”

“So?”

“So, I’ve seen you gushing blood. You’d use duct tape and bar rags before you put on a pink flower band-aid.”

“What’s your point?” Dean snapped.

“My point is this–all of this–is totally implausible. It’s nuts.”

“He’s been right about  _ everything _ so far, you think he’s just gonna ground out at first now?”

“I dunno.” Tara plucked up the guts to snatch one of the pages Sam had skipped over from his hand, “According to this, I end up wearing Sam’s jacket with no shirt underneath.” Sam swallowed hard at the thought, but buried that under amusement.

“Here’s another one. Dean slid behind the wheel of his beloved Impala and drove off, the plastic tarp on the rear window flapping like the wings of a crow.” Tara glanced at the pristine, unbroken rear window behind her.

“A tarp?”

“Yeah. On the rear window, and you drive it like that.”

“Well, he might be wrong about the details, but that doesn’t mean he’s wrong about the end result.”

“So we’re just gonna run?”

“Look, we are a long way from a face-to-face death match with Lilith.”

\------

But as it turned out, getting the hell outta dodge wasn’t an option. Conveniently, the only bridge in or out of town was out and they were turned around by the cops without so much as getting in sight of the thing.

So they went back to a diner in town for lunch. It was a small place, but the food smelled good. As Tara paged through the menu, though, she became aware of a familiar cramping in her lower abdomen. She checked the date on her phone and sighed a bit to herself. Right on time, as usual.

“Hey, this could be a good thing.” Dean said suddenly, and looked up from the manuscript, “I mean, if this is what puts us on the path to Lilith, then all we gotta do it get off the path.”

“How do you mean?”

“This is a blueprint of what  _ not _ to do. I mean, if the pages say that we go left–”

“Then we go right.”

“Exactly! We get off-book, we never make it to the end. It’s opposite day. It says that we, uh, we get into a fight, so, no fighting. No research for you, no listening to music for Tara–”

“No bacon cheeseburger for you.” Tara had to contain a smile.

“Yeah, no problem. I’ll just order something else.” He picked up the menu right as the waitress walked over, “Hi. What’s good?”

“Well, if you like burgers, Oprah’s girlfriend says we’ve got the best bacon cheeseburgers in the country.” 

“Really?” Dean asked.

“I’ll have one of those.” Tara handed over her menu with a smirk at Dean, who looked like a kicked puppy.

“I’ll just have the cobb salad, please.”

“I’ll have the....veggie tofu burger.” Dean tried to not look as disappointed at he sounded as he handed over his menu. 

“This whole thing is ridiculous.” Sam muttered as soon as the waitress was out of earshot.

“Lilith is ridiculous?”

“The idea of my hooking up with her is.” He sent Tara a meaningful look, but Dean totally missed it.

“Right, cause something like that could never happen.” Sam stiffened at the remark.

“Dean, for the first time, we have warning that Lilith is close.”

“So?”

“So, we’ve got the jump on her. If we know when she’s coming, we know where–this is an opportunity.”

“Are you–” Dean stopped himself before he could lose it, “It...frustrates me when you say such reckless things.”

“Well, it frustrates me when you’d rather hide than fight.” A particularly tight cramp rolled through Tara’s abdomen, and she knew she needed to excuse herself. She reached into her purse to make sure she had what she needed.

“It frustrates me when people say something other than what they mean. I’ll be right back.” She got up, only to crash into something. Hot liquid splashed down her shirt, soaking right through the cotton. Tara cried out in shock and pain, falling back and catching herself on the table. The waiter she’d crashed into stood with his mouth agape, the now-empty coffee pot shaking in his hand.

“I–I’m so sorry.” Tara looked down. Already, the coffee stain had spread, ruining the blue striped shirt. 

“It’s–it’s fine.” She stammered, “I’m just going to…” She peeled the shirt off her stomach with two fingers only to have it fall back wetly, “...yeah.”

“Here.” Sam was quick to hand her his jacket, “Go change in the bathroom.”

“Thanks.” She darted off to the back of the restaurant.

It wasn’t until Tara had gotten her period sorted and was zipping the coat up that she realized that this is exactly what Chuck had predicted. Sam’s jacket, no shirt underneath. Said shirt was sitting on the sink in front of her. Fortunately, the bra she was wearing today was a black sports bra. It had gotten wet, but she didn’t care about it and it wouldn’t stain too bad. Besides, she wasn’t about to go completely bare under Sam’s jacket. She wrung the coffee out of the shirt as best she could before rejoining Sam and Dean at the table, struggling to cuff the too-long sleeves.

“Here. May I?” He didn’t touch her until she extended a hand, still swamped by canvas. Sam worked quickly, his long, dexterous fingers folding the sleeves back. Every now and then, his skin would brush against hers, and each time it happened, Tara felt like an electric current ran through her body.

“Thanks.” She said when he finished, and glanced up from her sleeves only to get trapped in his eyes. Sam found himself equally trapped but he broke free first, moving his hands from the sleeves to take her hands.

“Tara…” His hands were so warm around hers. And just like three days ago, it felt so right. Dean looked very pointedly at the wall, trying to ignore the moment happening right in front of him.

“Cobb salad for you,” Their waitress appeared out of nowhere, putting Sam’s meal down on the table. Both Sam and Tara jerked back, the latter looking away. Sam felt his heart drop, “And veggie tofu burger for you. I’ll be right back with your meal, sweetheart.” The oblivious waitress vanished as suddenly as she appeared.

Without further ado, Dean peeled back the wrapper on his burger and took a bite. Tara was ready to see him over-act gagging, but her eyebrows shot up when he practically moaned into the burger.

“Oh my God. This is delicious. Tofu is amazing!”

“I’m so sorry.” The waitress reappeared, “I gave you her meal by mistake. I can go get you another one–”

“No, it’s all good.” Tara was hungry now, and she had absolutely no qualms about finishing the burger Dean had taken a bite out of. After all, he tended to eat right out of the main dish when she made pie. He thought he was so sneaky about it, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out where that extra slice disappeared to overnight, especially if no dirty dishes materialized in the sink. 

While she dug in, Dean just started a Sam, holding the bite of burger in his mouth like a chipmunk.

\------

After finishing their meals–which left Dean more than grumpy–the elder Winchester drove them over to what had to be the seediest motel Tara had stayed in to date.

“Dude.” Sam said when they pulled into the parking lot, “This place charges by the hour.”

“Yeah, well the book say Lilith finds you at the Red Motel, hence the, uh, Hooker Inn. It’s opposite day, remember?” Tara wrinkled her nose as she took in the exterior of the place.

“I’m so glad I have my own sheets.”

While she went about setting up her air mattress, Dean put together some hex bags to “Lilith-proof” the room.

“So, what? I’m supposed to just hole up here all night?” Sam was offended.

“That’s exactly what you’re gonna do, and Hershey’s gonna be on lockdown with you.”

“What’d I do?”

“Nothing. But Sam’s less likely to hook up with Lilith with you around to watch.” Tara flushed heavily, “And no research!” He told Sam, “I don’t care what you do–use the magic fingers or watch “Casa Erotica” on pay-per-view.”

“Right,” Tara said, crossing her arms, “Because that’s an option while I’m around.”

“I dunno, some couples are into that sorta thing.” Dean reached into Sam’s bag and took out his laptop.

“Oh, dude, come on!”

“Just call it insurance.” He took Tara’s as well, but left her the books.

“What are you gonna do?”

“Well the pages say that I spend all day riding around in the Impala, so I’m gonna go park her.” He stopped right before he opened the door, “Behave yourselves, would you? Get all that sorted.” He waved his hand at the air between them and left. 

Sam shifted his weight uncomfortably in the silence Dean left behind.

“Look, I’m sorry. Dean was way outta line there.”

“It’s fine.” She responded quickly. It wasn’t fine. She was  _ far _ from fine. Dean had basically just told them to watch porn together and hook up. And she was still wearing Sam’s coat with nothing but a bra underneath.

“No, it’s not, it’s–” Tara sent Sam a glare that silenced him for a moment. He pressed his lips into a thin line and changed the topic, “Look, I’m gonna call Chuck. There are some things I need to ask him.” Tara rolled her eyes.

“Alone, I’m guessing.” Sam’s mouth opened a closed like a fish out of water, but she went on before he could get any words out, “Whatever. I stink like coffee, so I’m gonna shower.” She grabbed her stuff from her bag and shut herself in the bathroom.

Hot water poured down Tara’s back, running over her shoulders, down her arms, and off her fingers as she stood under the spray. Katy Perry’s new album was blasting from her iPod. She didn’t care that it was a part of Chuck’s writing, she wasn’t going to deny herself this. She washed the coffee smell off her, and spent some extra time shaving her legs, as well as conditioning her hair, but after that, she just stood under the spray. Thinking.

Ever since Wyoming, Tara had been secretly trying to dig up whatever background Tessa had been alluding to, but she’d found nothing. Her parents were both normal, they had no siblings, she’d never known her grandparents, but from the records she’d been able to find, they’d been normal too. There was nothing in her past that Tara had been able to find that even hinted at a connection with the supernatural world.

Then it came to her.

If Chuck really knew so much about the Winchesters, then maybe he knew what Tessa had been talking about! It was certainly worth asking him.

With that in mind, Tara finished her shower, slipped into clean clothes, and wrapped her hair in a towel. She opened the door a little and peeked out into the main room. Sam and Chuck were sitting at the coffee table, the former with his back to her. Whatever Chuck had been saying, he trailed off when he saw her.

“Hi, Tara.”

“Hey.” She finished buttoning up her flannel, “Can I talk to you a sec?”

“Um, sure.” Chuck shrugged. Sam seemed to sense that he wasn’t wanted around at the moment.

“I’m gonna get a soda.” He grabbed his key and left.

“What is it?” Chuck asked. Tara sat down, the chair still warm from Sam’s body heat. She leaned forward, elbows on the table.

“Back in Wyoming, the reaper, Tessa. She said something, and…”

“You want to know if I know what she was talking about.” Tara nodded.

“Yeah. I can’t find anything, and I don’t want the Winchesters to know about it until I know what  _ it _ is. So do you know?” Chuck shook his head and her heart sank.

“I’m sorry, Tara. Your appearance was a...surprise, to say the least. Others have come and gone from their lives, but nobody has been this close to them for so long. At first I thought I was going to kill you off, but you keep surprising me.” Tara didn’t like the way he spoke to casually about killing her, but she shoved that down.

“Alright. Thanks anyway.” She rested her head in her hands and Chuck chose that moment to leave.

When Sam came back a couple minutes later, Tara still hadn’t moved.

“Hey, everything ok?”

“Yeah. I’m fine.” Sam sat down across from her.

“You’re a good liar, Tara. But that was bullshit.” Her eyes shot up at his tone, “You said you needed space, and I’m trying to give that to you. But if you’re gonna lie to me, you gotta do better than that.” Tara huffed.

“Fine. I’m not fine, but I don’t wanna talk about it. Happy?”

“Now you just sound like Dean.” His remark coaxed a small smile out of her, so he took a chance, “You told me to figure out what I wanted. From you.” 

The way Tara’s breath hitched told him he had to phrase his next words with the utmost care.

“I don’t know what’s coming our way with Lilith and the Apocalypse and all that, and as your heard from the publisher, two of my previous relationships  _ really _ didn’t end well. But I want to give this a shot.” Tara felt like she was going to pass out. He was right  _ there _ , telling her everything she wanted to hear. If they both leaned in, there was no telling where it would take them. She swallowed hard.

“What about Lilith?”

“What about her?”

“Chuck wrote that–”

“Screw Chuck. Everything that’s happened to far has been out of our control. If there’s one thing I know, it’s that I’m not going to hook up with Lilith–tonight, or ever.” He shuddered again at the prospect, but Tara didn’t respond. She just sat, in silence until Sam started fidgeting.

“Alright.” She finally said, the word coming out as more of a breath than anything. Sam let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, his face breaking into a grin.

“Good. Great.” He reached out, hesitating a few times before running his hands from her elbows to her wrists. Tara’s eyelids fluttered at the contact, but managed to pull away.

“I’m not watching porn with you now though.”

“Oh, no! God, no. That’s not–I wasn’t–I have more class than not. N-not that Dean doesn’t have class, but–” Tara’s giggles made him stop and find his words, “I was thinking more along the lines of dinner. Maybe after this case? Just the two of us, preferably somewhere other than a 24-hour diner.”

“Yeah.” Tara smiled, “Yeah, I’d like that. There’s just one thing, though.”

“What?”

“Ruby. Your powers. What’s the deal? You can’t keep throwing me aside for her whenever she deigns to show her face.” 

“And I won’t, I promise.” Sam said quickly. Then swallowed hard, for a very different reason than he had earlier. If this was going to have any chance of working, then he had to come clean.

\------

Dean came hurtling into the room after dark, startling Sam and Tara. Tara had been reading quietly on her air mattress, and she’d let Sam borrow her iPod so he wasn’t completely bored out of his mind.

“Guys, come on. We’re getting outta here.”

“What?” Sam pulled an earbud out, “Where?”

“Anywhere, ok? Outta this motel, outta this town, I don’t care if we have to swim; we are getting out.” Tara saw Dean’s demeanor change when he couldn’t find any of the hex bags he’d put out earlier.

“Dude, where are all the hex bags?”

“I burned ‘em.” Sam confessed. 

“You what?” He looked down at Tara, “He  _ what _ ?”

“She was in the shower.” Sam covered for her, “But look, if Lilith is coming, which is a big ‘if’–”

“No, no, no. It’s more than an ‘if’. Chuck is not a psychic. He’s a prophet.”

“What?”

“Cas showed up, and apparently Chuck is writing the Gospel of Us.” 

“Ok.”

“Ok. Let’s get the hell out of here.” Sam didn’t move.

“No.” Dean slammed his jacket back down on the bed.

“Lilith is gonna slaughter you.”

“Maybe she will. Maybe she won’t.”

“So what? You think you can take her?”

“Only one way to find out, Dean and I say bring her on.”

“Sam–”

“You think I’ll do it, don’t you. You think I’ll go Dark Side.”

“Yes! Ok? Yes. The way you’ve been acting lately, the things you’ve been  _ doing _ ?” Tara’s grip on the book tightened, but Sam made no move to refute Dean’s claim, “Oh, I know. How you ripped Alastair apart like it was nothing, like you were swatting a fly.” Sam whirled on Tara.

“You  _ told _ him?”

“No, don’t drag her into this. Cas told me, ok?”

“What else did he tell you?”

“Nothing I don’t already know. That you’ve been using your psychic crap, that you’ve been getting stronger. We just don’t know why and we don’t know how.” Tara glanced over at Sam, only to see relief in his eyes.

“It’s not what you think.”

“Then what is it, Sam? Cause I’m at a total loss.” When Sam didn’t respond, Dean balled his fists. He grabbed his jacket off the bed and went for the door.

“Come on, Tara. Unless you fancy getting filleted by Lilith for shits and giggles.” Without so much as looking at Sam, Tara sprang to her feet and left the motel room. Dean held the door for her, but closed it after she left.

He emerged a few moments later, without his coat.

“Go wait in the car.” He tossed her the keys, “I need a soda.” Tara caught the keys with ease and unlocked the passenger door.

Once she was settled, and had taken in the plastic tarp covering the rear window, Tara rubbed her hands down her face. She and Sam were playing a very dangerous game, leaving Dean in the dark like this. But the way he’d acted with Sam just now only proved the younger Winchester right. If he knew the whole truth, what Sam had told Tara, he’d never go along with any of it. Tara herself didn’t like the idea of Sam drinking demon blood. It made him seem just a little too vampiric. But if he truly didn’t have a choice, like Chuck had implied, then she was going to have to look beyond that. At least until Lilith was dead.

Tara shivered in the cold, April night air. Where was Dean with that soda? She looked out the window and saw Dean heading over to the car, determined. He got in, barely closing the door before he had the engine running. 

“What’s going on? Where are we going?”

“Cas came through.” I’ll explain on the way. He sped out of the parking lot, the plastic tarp flapping like the wings of a crow.

Chuck was curled up in a blanket on his couch when Dean and Tara broke in. He looked at them in shock.

“What are you doing here? I didn’t write this.”

“Time for a second draft.” Dean took the mug from Chuck.

“We need you to come with us.”

“What? Where?”

“The motel, where Sam is.”

“That’s where Lilith is.”

“Yeah, exactly. We need you to stop her.” He tried to pull Chuck by his arm, but the prophet pulled back.

“Are you insane? Lilith? I know what she’s capable of, Dean–I wrote her.”

“Alright, listen to me. You have an archangel tethered to you, ok? All you gotta do it show up, and boom! Lilith gets smoked.” Dean had Chuck backed up against the mantle.

“I–I–I haven’t seen that yet. T-the story–”

“Chuck, you’re the only shot that we’ve got left.”

“But I’m just a writer.” He protested weakly.

“This isn’t a story anymore!” Tara finally exclaimed, “Maybe the reason you haven’t seen this part is because you don’t need to–you’ll be there.”

“Now, we need you to get off your ass and fight.” Chuck seemed to deflate a bit, and walked back to the middle of the room. For a moment, Tara thought he was going to agree.

“No friggin’ way.” The hard way it was, then. Dean nodded discreetly at Tara, and she got ready to reach for her gun.

“Ok, how about this. We’ve got guns, and if you don’t come along, we’ll blow your brains out.”

“I thought you said I was protected by an archangel.” Chuck pointed out.

“Interesting exercise. Let’s see who the quicker draw is.” Dean said. Tara cocked her gun, making sure Chuck heard it.

“And even if we can’t escape the archangel, we can still put you in a world of hurt.” Dean cocked his own gun.

“What she said.”

“Alright, alright!” Chuck finally gave in, “I’ll do it.”

When they got back to the motel, neither of their key cards worked on the door. So Dean smashed it in while Tara shoved Chuck in front of them. Tara’s heart skipped a beat when she saw Sam under Lilith on one of the beds, only barely keeping her from stabbing him. Lilith sent them a whithering glare at the interruption.

“I am the prophet Chuck!” He announced.

“You’ve  _ got _ to be  _ joking _ .” Lilith spat. The ground began to shake, all the dishes rattled on the shelves, and even the largest pictures fell from the walls as a bright light shone in from outside.

“Oh, this is no joke. See, Chuck here’s got an archangel in his shoulder.” Tara spread her stance a bit to keep from falling, “You’ve got about ten seconds before this room is full of wrath and you’re a piece of charcoal! You sure you wanna tangle with that?” Some of the ceiling tiles cracked and broke, dropping onto the floor.

Lilith looked at them, glaring, then back at Sam, who had pressed himself against the nearest wall. For a moment, Tara thought Lilith was going to murder them all. But then black smoke poured from her mouth, streaming out the window. The glass shattered, and the blonde she’d been possessing collapsed to the floor. But the ground stopped shaking, and the light from outside receded. Tara let herself lean against the coffee table and meet eyes with Sam. He was breathing hard, but other than that he looked alright. Dean stepped forward cautiously as the blonde on the floor began to stir.

“Time to go.” He stated.

“Yep.” Sam was already grabbing their things.

\------

They dropped Chuck back at home and hit the road. It was well past midnight, so the cops guarding the newly-repaired bridge were gone. As soon as they crossed the county line, Sam told them what Lilith had offered.

“To call the whole thing off? Angels, seals, Lucifer rising, the whole nine?”

“That was the gist of it.”

“Huh.” Dean turned his eyes back to the road. Clearly, he had an opinion he wasn’t voicing.

“What?”

“You didn’t think once about taking it?”

“Are you kidding me? You spent all day trying to talk me  _ off _ the Lilith track.”

“I’m just saying.”

“She would’ve found some way to weasel out of it. And all it would have cost us was our lives. Including yours, Tara. Some demon must’ve reported back to her about you at some point.”

“Great.” She rolled her eyes, “Always nice to make some evil big wig’s kill list. Here’s the loophole, by the way.  _ She _ stands down. She never promised all her other minions would do the same.” Sam tossed his hands up.

“There we go.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Dean finally relented.

“Anyway, that’s not the point.”

“Wait, it’s not?”

“Then what is it?”

“The point is she’s scared. I could see it. Lilith is running.”

“Running from what?”

“Don’t know. But she was telling the truth about one thing.”

“What’s that?” 

“She’s not gonna survive the Apocalypse. I’ll make sure of that.” Tara really didn’t like the way Sam said that, and obviously Dean didn’t either from the way he looked at him. But then Sam slipped his right arm over the back of the bench, like he was reaching for his jacket. Tara handed it to him, but he batted it aside, taking her hand instead. She locked eyes with him in the rearview mirror, and he squeezed her hand gently. Tara let her eyes flutter closed as she laid down and squeezed back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...the Supernatural finale happened. I needed a ~hot second~ to process it. No spoilers in the comments (because I know people who haven't gotten the chance to watch it yet), but feel free to DM me if you want to chat about it!


	27. Jump The Shark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gah, I meant to update sooner than this but college has been a ~struggle~ these past couple weeks.

The next time they stopped in a town for longer than a few hours, Sam kept his word to Tara. As soon as Dean went out to find a bar and a hookup, Sam shut his laptop.

“So, where do you wanna go?” Tara put down her book.

“Sorry, what?”

“For dinner. Dean’s gone, so…” He shrugged, “Dinner?” A smile crept onto Tara’s face.

“Sure.” Sam let out a breath.

“Great. I’ll, uh, go so...something...somewhere. I’ll pick you up in fifteen?” Her smile widened.

“Sounds good. What should I…?”

“Um, I don’t know. Nothing...fancy, but…”

“I’m sure I‘ll figure something out.”

“Great, uh, see you soon, I guess.” He got up and shuffled out the door.

Now on her own, Tara started tearing through her clothes. She had no idea what to wear on a first date like this. Sam had already seen pretty much all her outfits. No matter what she wore, it wouldn’t be a surprise for him, and a small part of her really wanted that. And, unlike the last time she’d gone on a first date, she didn’t have a best friend or a roommate to consult. Tara assessed the mess she’d made across the two queen beds. Then, an idea began to hatch in her mind.

Fifteen minutes later, Sam knocked on the motel room door. It opened almost immediately, and Sam found himself short on breath. Tara had donned a form-fitting black tank top under a purple plaid flannel. She’d turned the flannel into a crop top, rolling up the sleeves and tying the bottom half of it at her diaphragm. She was also wearing a pair of khaki shorts and a pair of Converse. Her orange and white marble rested right in the ‘v’ the flannel made, teasing what was beneath. By the new ringlets in her hair, she’d gotten into his hair products too. And he wasn’t even mad.

“Wow.” Tara blushed heavily and looked down, her curls framing her face even more than usual.

“Thanks.” Sam stepped aside to let her out.

“Shall we go?” Tara slipped her hand into his, relishing the rush that came with it.

“Yes, let’s.”

\------

When Sam and Tara got back to the motel, Dean was still out. They’d found a little hole-in-the-wall Chinese place to have dinner. Tara had had lo main, and Sam had ordered something healthier with a lot of broccoli. Despite their situation being unique, given the fact that they spent almost every minute of their time together, the conversation never lulled. But instead of talking about Lilith, or the Apocalypse, they found other topics. Topics that made them feel like more of a normal couple. Tara really enjoyed the change, putting herself back out there again, especially with no expectations about what happened after dinner.

Even so, as soon as they got back to the hotel, they had to stop acting like a couple. Since this was so new, they’d both agreed to keep it from Dean–for now–until they figured out if it was something that could last. When they crossed into the room, they dropped each others hands and went back to what they’d been doing before. Tara resumed her reading of the Supernatural books and Sam reopened his computer in search of a case.

When Dean stumbled back in the wee hours of the morning and found them both asleep, Sam in his bed and Tara on her air mattress, he was none the wiser.

The next case they worked was a standard salt & burn, but they had to blow town pretty fast afterwards. Someone had seen then filling the grave back in and called the cops. Even with all of Dean’s fancy driving, they barely avoided getting pulled over on the way out. 

Once they hit the open road, Dean didn’t stop until they were in the middle of nowhere. He pulled off the road, the headlights illuminating a large body of water, and shut off the engine.

“It’s the Winchester Motel for us tonight.” He announced. Tara crawled up into the space behind the back bench and bunched her jacket up to use as a pillow. Sam climbed into the backseat while Dean stretched out in the front. Tara closed her eyes, trying to get the lingering adrenaline in her system to go away. She concentrated on the gentle, rhythmic sound of waves on rocks outside and let herself drift off.

\------

Sam was the first one to wake up the next morning. The sky was gray and overcast, but now that he was awake, he didn’t feel like going back to sleep. He sat up a bit and looked at Tara. She was still out cold. Sometimes he wondered if some feline traits had carried over when she’d been changed back; the way she was curled up on her side looked very cat-like.

Sam couldn’t resist running his fingers over the smooth skin on the back of her hand. Tara stirred at the contact and cracked an eye open. Sam felt a light pang of guilt.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to sleep.” At that, Tara curled up tighter, the hand Sam had touched coming up to cover her eyes. He smiled. She was too cute for her own good sometimes.

Tara dozed, but she never went fully back to sleep. When she heard Dean grunting as he let himself out of the car.

“Hey.” Sam had been leaning against the hood, brushing his teeth, “How’d you sleep?”

“How do you think?” Dean groused, leaning heavily on the car. Tara decided it was time for her to get up too, and rolled onto the backseat as gracefully as she could. Her joints moaned in protest as she unfolded them and got out of the car.

“I’m starving, let’s get breakfast.”

“Where? We’re like two hours from anything.”

“But I’m hungry  _ now _ .”

“There’s a sandwich from yesterday in the back.” Tara said, stretching her arms over her head. Dean grinned, grabbing the paper bag but as soon as he opened it, he gagged.

“It’s tuna.” Before he could blame Sam for ordering tuna on his sandwich, a phone rang. Tara patted her pockets out of habit.

“Not me.” Dean leaned in through the open window and fumbled around in the glovebox. Finally, he found the culprit and promptly banged his head on the way out. 

“Isn’t that dad’s phone?” Sam asked. Tara tensed up a bit. They’d never really talked about John Winchester, but the Supernatural books didn’t exactly paint him in a flattering light.

“Hello?” Dean answered the phone, “He can’t come to the phone. Can I help you?” There were a few tense moments of silence, “Well, sorry to be the one to break this to you, pal, but John died more than two years ago.” Sam and Dean shared a look before Dean asked who was speaking. Tara didn’t hear what the other person said, but by the way Dean’s face suddenly hardened, it wasn’t good.

\------

The three of them hightailed it up to Windom, Minnesota. The whole way there, Dean was grumpy and angry while Sam stayed silent and pensive. Tara was just doing her best to vanish into the backseat and not remind them that she was there. She knew the topic of their dad was a sore spot for them, and a part of her wondered if she should just find herself another case for a couple days while they dealt with this, but Sam assured her that wasn’t necessary.

They arranged to meet Adam for breakfast at a little diner in town. As soon as they pulled in–a good fifteen minutes early–Dean was going through the trunk getting the supplies he needed. Meanwhile, Sam tried to talk him down.

“Dean, look. Best I can tell, Adam Milligan is real.” He was reading off a file in his hands, “Born September 29th, 1990 to Kate Milligan, no father listed on the birth certificate. He’s an Eagle Scout, graduated from high school with honors, and currently goes to the University of Wisconsin, biology major, pre-med. Dean, are you listening?”

“This is a trap.” Dean slammed the trunk and went inside, leaving Sam and Tara no option but to follow.

The diner was a seat-yourself place, so Dean picked a table in the corner with good access to the fire exit. He dragged one of the chairs around to the other side, making it so Adam would sit across from them. He squished Sam into the corner and put Tara on the end so she had the fastest way out.

“Dean, I’m telling you. The kid checks out.” 

“Great, so he’s an actual person on the planet Earth. Sucks that he’s got a demon in him.” Their waitress came over.

“Hi, welcome to Cousin Oliver’s.” She put waters down in front of all of them, “Can I–”

“We’re actually waiting on somebody.” The waitress scoffed at Dean’s rudeness, slapped their menus on the table and stalked off.

“Thank you…” Sam tried to say, but it did no good. As soon as no one was look, Dean grabbed the glass from Adam’s place and poured it into the potted plant behind them.

“What are you–” Dean took a silver flask out of his pocket and started pouring, “Holy water?”

“Yep. One sip of Jesus juice, and this evil bitch is gonna be in a world of hurt.

“And what if he’s not possessed?”

“Then he’s a shapeshifter.” Dean had taken out his own set of silverware, snagging Adam’s and putting the silver cutlery in their place.

“Hence the silver.”

“Either way, this thing is gonna bleed. I mean, using dad as bait? That’s the last mistake of its short, pitiful life.” Sam and Tara shared a look around Dean. His attitude was starting to scare Tara just a little.

“What?” Dean snapped at Sam, then at Tara, “What?”

“Dean, listen.” He flipped open their father’s journal, “There’s an entry in dad’s journal from January of 1990, saying he’s headed up to Minnesota to check out a case. That’s roughly, oh, about nine months before the kid was born.”

“Coincidence.” Dean brushed it off.

“Coincidence? The next two pages of the journal are torn out.” He played with the remains of the paper.

“You’re not actually  _ buying _ this, are you?”

“Look, man, I don’t wanna believe it either. I’m just saying, it’s possible. I mean, dad would be gone for weeks at a time and he wasn’t exactly a monk. I mean, a hunter rolls into town, kills the monster, saves the girl. Sometimes the girl’s grateful.”

“Well now I’m thinking about dad sex. Stop talking.”

“Maybe he slipped one past the goalie.”

“Dude!” Tara had an elbow up on the table, using her hand to block her view of Sam and Dean. The bells above the door jingled and a young man walked in. As soon as Tara saw him, she knew he had to be related to Sam and Dean. He was tall, thin, and had dirty blonde hair. He stood like Sam, but his facial structure was similar to Dean’s.

“Adam?” Sam got his attention and he came over.

“You Sam?”

“Yeah. Uh, this is Dean, and that’s Tara.”

“Hi.” He set his bag on the floor and sat down, “So, um, how’d you know my dad?”

“Uh, we worked together.” Sam said when Dean stayed silent.

“Oh. How did he die?”

“On the job.”

“He was a mechanic, right?”

“A car fell on him.” Dean said, none too gently either.

“Hey, Adam.” Their waitress came back, “How’re you doing?” She gave him a fresh glass of water.

“Oh, I’ll take that.” Dean grabbed it, “I’m very thirsty.” The waitress ignored his rudeness.

“The usual, Adam?”

“Uh, yeah. Thanks, Denise.”

“Make that two, please.” Tara put in, giving Denise a kind smile. As she walked back to the kitchen, Adam picked up the glass of holy water. The three of them tensed in their seats as he took a sip. Tara waited, and waited, but nothing happened. He just put the glass back down and she let herself relax a bit. Not a demon, then.

“So, when’s the last time you saw John?” Sam tried to cover the tense silence.

“I don’t even know, it’s...a couple years.”

“Why’d you decide to call him now?” Tara’s eyes widened when she noticed Dean had pulled his gun out under the table.

“I didn’t know who else to call. He’s the only family I got.” Well, that wasn’t quite true, “My mom’s missing.”

“Really? I’m sorry, for how long?”

“It’s tragic, really.” Dean sounded far less sincere, “But if you’re John’s kid, how come we’ve never heard of you?”

“Cause John and me didn’t really know each other. Not until a few years ago, anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

“My mom never talked about him. I knew some stuff–”

“What kind of stuff?” Adam shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

“My mom’s a nurse, and dad came into the ER pretty torn up. Hunting accident or something? And I knew his name: John Winchester. That’s about it, we’re not exactly a nuclear family.”

“Yeah, well, who is these days?”

“So when did you, uh, finally meet him?”

“When I was twelve. My mom had one of his old numbers and after I begged her, God, 24/7, she finally called him. When John heard he had a son, he raced to town. I mean, he dropped everything. He drove all night.” The more Adam said, the more Tara could see Dean get pissed off. This John sounded nothing like the one from the books.

Denise reappeared suddenly, placing plates of food in front of Adam and Tara.

“Well that’s heartwarming.”

“You mind?”

“Please, dig in.” Instead of doing that Tara tensed again, watching carefully as Adam reached for the silver. He pulled the napkin out first, putting it on his lap. Tara heard Dean cock his gun, but Adam was oblivious.

“He would swing by once a year or so,” His fingers closed around the cutlery, but nothing happened, “You know, called when he could, but still.” Tara saw Dean discreetly put his gun away, “He taught me poker and pool, and he even bought me my first beer when I was fifteen. And, uh, he showed me how to drive. Dad had this….beautiful ‘67 Impala–” Dean couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Oh, this is crap. You know what? You’re lying.” Adam tried to deny it, but Dean wouldn’t hear it.

“I’m sorry, but who the hell are you to call me a liar?”

“We’re John Winchester’s sons, that’s who.  _ We _ are his sons.” But instead of getting confrontational, Adam looked almost happy.

“I’ve got brothers?” His eyes turned to Tara, “A sister?” Tara shook her head quickly at that.

“No, you don’t have brothers. Look, man I don’t know if you’re a hunter or what kind of game you’re playing here–”

“I have never been hunting in my life.”

“Whatever. I’m outta here. C’mon, Sam. Hershey, you too.” He was practically pulling her upright with him so he could get out.

“I can prove it.” Adam stood his ground.

\------

Dean drove them over to Adam’s house. Tara had ended up in the front seat for the ride, squished to the point of claustrophobia between Sam and Dean. Under just about any other circumstances, Tara would’ve been happy to be pressed up against Sam’s solid form, but there was just too much tension and anger in the car for that to happen now.

When they got to Adam’s place, the first thing he did was show them a picture of him and John at a baseball game.

“He took you to a baseball game?”

“Yeah, when I turned fourteen. Dad was around for a few of my birthdays.”

“September 29th, 2004.” Sam was reading from his journal, “One word: Minnesota.”

“He took you to a freakin’ baseball game?”

“Yeah. Why? What’d dad do with you on your birthday?” Dean just made a face that made Adam drop the subject.

“Adam, you said you called dad because your mom was missing.”

“Yeah.”

“How long has she been gone?”

“Three days.”

“Who was the last person to see her?” Dean begrudgingly put himself in case-solving gear.

“Mr. Abbinanti, our neighbor. He saw her come home Tuesday night but she never showed up to work on Wednesday.”

“Did you call the police?” Tara asked.

“Mom’s supervisor at the hospital did, and then I drove down here as fast as I could. I should’ve been here.” Dean cleared his throat.

“What’d the cops say?”

“They, uh, searched the house but they didn’t find anything.” Tara could tell Adam was starting to get upset talking about it, “She wouldn’t leave without telling anybody. It’s like she just dropped off the face of the Earth, you know?” Dean just walked off.

Sam and Tara managed to occupy Adam for a few minutes with meaningless conversation before he went to find Dean. Dean, who had been giving the house his own once-over. As soon as Adam left, Sam got on the phone with the cops and Tara began her own search of the house. 

Sam’s conversation with the cops didn’t turn up anything, and the only thing Tara found that was suspicious was a newspaper clipping from the year Adam was born. What drew her eyes was the black-and-white picture from and center in the article.

“Sam?” She showed him the clipping, “Is that…” She pointed at a figure near the back of the photo. Sam clenched his jaw.

“Yeah. And it looks like whatever he was hunting came back.” He showed her a more recent article, also talking about grave robberies, and a missing poster, “Come on.”

They found Dean and Adam in the master bedroom. From the look of it, they saved Dean from an awkward situation when they called him out into the hall. Tara stayed with Adam to keep him distracted.

“Hey, Tara? What was dad like?” Tara chuckled a bit.

“You’ve got it wrong. I’m not their sister, I’m just a friend.” Well, more than a friend to Sam, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Oh. Are you a mechanic too?”

“What? No, no. I’m a–no.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Hey,” Dean returned the favor of saving her from an awkward situation, “Does your mom know Joe Barton?”

“I don’t think so, why?” Tara looked from one Winchester to the other. Were they really about to spill the beans about monsters to him? But neither of them spoke. Instead, Dean’s brow furrowed and he went to get a closer look at something on the floor. Scratches in the dark wood.

“Watch out.” Adam got up off the bed and Dean lifted the covers, “Give me a hand with the mattress.” Tara stepped to help, but Adam jumped on it instead. They lifted it off the bed, revealing a vent just large enough for a human-sized thing to fit through underneath.

Sam wrinkled his nose, he and Dean both putting out a fist to do rock-paper-scissors. Like all the other times she’d seen them play it, Sam won. 

“Every time.” Dean looked down at the grate.

“I’m going.” Tara announced, and the smirk Sam was wearing suddenly vanished.

“What?”

“I’m the smallest.” She shrugged, “Seems logical.” She didn’t want to go. She really didn’t, but she also felt like she’d been taking a benchwarmer on hunts recently, and she wanted to do something for a change.

Dean gave some token protests, but relented in the end. They pulled the grate off, and Tara peered inside. The flashlight bounced off the metal in a way she didn’t like, and the first thing she noticed was some drops of blood, but she didn’t back down. She dropped her gun down, along with the flashlight, and lowered herself in headfirst. The metal of the vent flexed and bent beneath her, but it didn’t give out.

She picked up her things and got into an army crawl position, her shoulders brushing against either side of the vent. Then, she began to inch along, she gun cocked. Her muscles were burning by the time she reached the first junction. She shone the flashlight around a bit, just in case there was anything waiting around the corner. Nothing the light hit seemed to move. So she scooted a bit closer, all too aware of the scraping noise her belt buckle made against the metal. 

Tara peered to the right, but the vent ended, giving her a view of the entry hall downstairs. Blood rushed in her ears as she turned to her left. If anything was waiting, it would be that way. With one mighty push, Tara shoved herself out into the junction, gun pointed. But there was no monster lying in wait. Only carnage. Blood and hair coated the vent on all sides, along with patches of skin. She cried out at the discovery.

“Tara?!” She heard Sam yell.

“Hershey, you ok?”

“I–” She was far from fine, “–I’m coming back up.”

\------

After telling them what she’d found, the Winchesters told Adam to call the cops. As soon as he did, they left, leaving Adam alone. It was a dick move, but their presence would lead to unanswerable questions. Tara was a little shaken by her discovery in the vents. It was the first time she’d come across something that grisly alone. As if he sensed this, Sam rode in the back with her on the way to the motel, gently rubbing circles on the back of her hand with his thumb where Dean couldn’t see.

Once back in their room, Dean started cleaning their weapons, getting ready to go after whatever it was that took Kate Milligan. They hadn’t been there more than half an hour before there was a knock at the door. Tara and Dean cocked their guns while Sam answered it. He’d barely even opened the door before Adam burst into the room.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Adam, hey.” Sam greeted him while Tara and Dean covered what weapons they could, “Take it easy.”

“No, don’t tell me to take it easy, ok? My house is a crime scene, my mom’s probably dead, and you three–well, you tell me to call the cops, but you gotta bail before they show? So who are you really?” He demanded once more. Sam and Dean both exchanged a look before glancing at Tara. She tossed up her hands.

“He’s your brother, it’s your call.”

“What’s their call?” Adam demanded, “The cops didn’t know where to look for my mom, Dean, but you did. And I heard you talking earlier–something about grave robberies.” Then his eyes fell on the shotgun, peeking out from under the towel Dean had thrown on it.

“You’re not mechanics. I just wanna know what’s going on.” His voice was starting to shake, “Please.” Sam and Dean looked equally uncomfortable, but the younger caved first.

“We’re hunters.”

“Sammy!”

“He deserves to know, Dean.”

“What do you mean, ‘hunters’?”

They settled Adam down on the bed where Tara had been cleaning her gun. She went and took up residence by the coffee table with Dean, leaving Sam to do most of the explaining by himself.

“Ok, so, basically you’re saying that every movie monster, every nightmare that I’ve ever had, that’s all real?” Adam asked at the end of Sam’s speech.

“Godzilla’s just a movie.” Sam shot Dean a look over his shoulder.

“We hunt them, so did dad.” Adam took a deep breath, and Tara braced for the inevitable slew of denials and insults and curses. But it never came.

“Ok.” He said simply.

“Ok? That’s it?”

“What am I supposed to say?”

“That we’re liars, that we’re crazy. Nobody just says ‘ok’.”

“You’re my brothers. You’re telling me the truth, right?”

“No, we made up this incredibly complex and convoluted lie just to screw with you head.” Tara sassed him, speaking for the first time.

“Yeah.” Sam said, “It’s the truth.”

“Then I believe you.” Tara let out a puff of breath. Wow, this kid trusted easily, “Now what took my mom?”

“We’re not sure. Something’s in town stealing bodies–living  _ and _ dead–but we don’t know what.”

“There’s a long list of freaks that fit the bill.”

“You think maybe she might still be alive?” Adam asked, hopeful. Sam and Dean went quiet, finding an excuse to look anywhere but Adam. Tara thought back to the carnage in the vent and shook her head.

“I’m sorry, kid.”

“Oh.” Adam looked at the floor too, “How can I help?”

“You can’t.” Dean said firmly.

“This thing killed my mom. If you’re hunting it, I want in.”

“No.”

“Dean, look. Maybe–”

“Maybe what?” Dean challenged.

“He lost his mother, maybe we can understand what that feels like.” Dean surged to his feet.

“Why do you think dad never told us about this kid, Sam? Huh? Why do you think he ripped out the pages?”

“Because–”

“Because he was protecting him!”

“Dad’s dead, Dean.”

“That doesn’t matter! He didn’t want Adam to have our lives. And we’re gonna respect his wishes.”

“Do I get a say in this?”

“No!” Dean shouted.

“No.” Sam’s response was more gentle, but no less unyielding. Dean stormed towards the door.

“Babysit the kid.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going out!” Dean grabbed his jacket and slammed the door behind him. Tara groaned softly, closing her eyes and letting her head fall against the wall behind her.

“Is he always like that?”

“Welcome to the family.” Sam reached behind and pulled his gun from the waistband of his jeans, “Here. I’m gonna teach you a few things.” He released the clip.

“Uh…” Adam was suddenly unsure, “Dean said–”

“I know what Dean said.” Sam finished unloading the weapon and offered it to Adam, “And I know what it’s like to want revenge.” Adam accepted the gun.

\------

Tara stayed mostly to the side while Sam showed Adam the ins and outs of all their different guns. Not that she felt unwelcome, but he seemed to be enjoying being the big brother for once. So she stayed at the coffee table, only really speaking to give Adam pointers or tell him tricks that helped her when it came to putting guns back together.

“Sam? How did dad really die?”

“Demon.” Sam said bluntly.

“You hunting it down, got revenge?”

“Dean killed it.”

“So it’s over for you.” Sam finally stopped messing with the shotgun on his lap.

“It’s never over.” But before Adam could ask another question, all the lights in the room went out.

“What the–” Sam shushed him, and they all heard the rustling in the walls. Tara cocked her gun. This wasn’t a sound a ghost made. She could pinpoint the location almost immediately, her eyes following it as it moved. She bolted to her feet, getting to the middle of the room away from any vents.

“Stay here.” Sam instructed Adam and they approached the sinks, where the rustling had stopped. Sam paused outside the closed bathroom door, waiting for Tara to be on the other side. Once she was ready, Sam threw the door open and they were both aiming their guns at any vent they could see, but there was nothing. The rustling started up again, but this time in the room. Tara identified the source as a vent near the top of the wall.

“It’s in the vents. Go!” They all ran for the door. Sam took a shot at the vent, covering their escape. 

Outside, night had fallen and the motel was deserted. They raced down the wooden steps to the parking lot, Sam and Tara not bothering trying to hide their guns.

“Where’s your car?”

“There!” Adam pointed to a white and blue pickup, one of the only vehicles in the parking lot.

“Keys.” Adam tossed them to Sam and Tara raced to the other side of the truck with him. Sam fumbled with the keys, and all of a sudden he was flat on his back. Something under the truck had grabbed his ankle.

“Sam!” Tara cried when he went down. She and Adam ran around the truck again. Whatever had grabbed Sam was trying to pull him under the vehicle and he was only just hanging onto the bottom of the truck. Tara barely registered the Impala pulling up as she grabbed one of Sam’s hands. 

“Dean, help!” Adam grabbed the other, but the two of them weren’t strong enough. It wasn’t until Dean arrived that they were able to yank Sam free. It happened so fast that Tara fell back, landing hard on her tailbone with Sam’s head in her lap. Meanwhile, Dean shot his gun under the truck. Sam shuffled upright, leaning against Tara while they both panted, trying to get their breath back.

When Adam pulled his truck out of the parking spot, it revealed a manhole with the cover off. Dean inspected the opening, and when he stood back up, there was blood on his fingers.

“I winged it. Did you see anything?”

“I didn’t get a good look.” Tara could tell Sam was disappointed in himself, so she took a half-step closer to him.

“What the hell is this thing?” If Dean noticed her move, he didn’t let on.

“Why–who–should we go after it?”

“Ha. Only if you have a death wish.”

“No, no. In that maze, that thing’s long gone.”

“Alright, so we don’t know what it is, but we know who it’s going after. Joe Barton, Adam’s mom–”

“And Adam. It was under his truck just waiting for him.”

“It set a trap and I walked right into it.” Sam shook his head, and Tara casually put a hand on the Impala’s hood, close enough to Sam’s back that he could feel a ghost of contact.

“Doesn’t matter. You’re right, there’s a pattern. Joe Barton was a cop, and I’m pretty sure he helped out dad. So we’ve got him, dad’s girl, and his son.”

“All the people dad knew in town.”

“At least we know why it’s back.”

“It wants revenge.”

“So we take away the thing it wants. Come on.” 

\------

Dean swung by Adam’s house quickly so Adam could get his things. He and Sam tore down the crime scene tape to gain entry.

“Grab your stuff, we’ll hit the road.” Adam went up stairs and the three of them stayed in the kitchen. Sam sat at the table, Tara sat on it next to the duffel bag, and Dean lingered in the doorway until Adam passed out of sight.

“We shouldn’t leave.” Sam propped a foot up on the chair next to him and started tending to his ankle. Whatever had grabbed him had scraped it up pretty good.

“Yeah, let’s stay here where the kid’s mom got ganked. Good one.”

“I’m serious.”

“No, Sam. We’re gonna take the kid, we’re gonna drop him off at Bobby’s, and then you, me, and Tara are gonna come back here and finish what dad started.”

“How? We have no leads, no witnesses. We  _ do _ have what this thing wants.”

“You wanna use the kid as bait? That’s why you want to stay here?”

“Maybe this thing’ll come back.”

“And it followed him to the motel.” Tara pointed out, “For all we know it’s watching the house now, ready to follow us back to Bobby’s and attack as soon as we’re gone.”

“But we could train Adam, get him ready.”

“He could  _ die _ , Sam.”

“We could _ all _ die, Dean. Even if we do kill this thing, there are tons of other freaks that want revenge–on dad, on us. What if they find the kid instead and he’s not ready?”

“I’ll do it.” None of them had noticed Adam come back downstairs, “Whatever it takes, I’ll do it. I wanna do it.” Dean shot Sam a look, but Sam didn’t acknowledge him. He just sent Adam a look of approval.

The next day, they found some abandoned private property out in the woods so they could give Adam basic gun training. Tara hung back with Dean while Sam played big brother again. Dean shook his head when Sam praised Adam, calling him a natural.

“What?”

“This whole thing. Using the kid as bait. There was a time when Sam would never have let  _ me _ do something like this.”

“You’re worried that he’s going–how did you put it–Dark Side?”

“Yep. Especially after what Chuck told me about his psychic crap.” Tara bit her lip, feeling guilty for keeping the secret.

“I don’t know about that, but I do know that Sam had a point. About other monsters wanting revenge on Adam. I mean, pretty much all you guys do is make enemies of some of the most powerful things around and whether you’ll admit it or not, there’s no way Adam escapes the fallout. Eventually, something’s probably gonna find him. Maybe there’s a better way to do this than to use him as bait, but he should at least know how to survive.” Dean shrugged.

“I guess.”

Afterwards, they went back to Adam’s house to wait for the monster. In the meantime, Sam started teaching Adam about the different types of monsters and how to kill them. Not only that, but he also started recounting some of his and Dean’s hunts. The longer this went on, the more Sam went into detail, the more annoyed Tara could see Dean getting.

“That is some job you got, man.” Adam said finally.

“Being a hunter isn’t a job, Adam. It’s life. You’re pre-med. You got a girlfriend? Friends?” Adam nodded, “Not anymore you don’t.” Tara flinched a bit, remembering when they gave her this same speech, “If you’re gonna do this, you can’t have those kinds of connections–not with people outside the life. They’re weaknesses. You’ll just put those people in danger–get them killed. Even with people in the life,” He resisted the urge to glance at Tara, “There’s still a chance. That’s the price we pay. You cut ‘em out and you don’t look back. There’s only one thing you can count on–family.” Dean lost it.

“Sam. Can I talk to you?” The two of them went out into the entry hall, but Tara stayed to keep Adam from eavesdropping again.

“So,” Adam turned to face her, leaning back and crossing his arms, “Sam gets to be all high and mighty about not having connections but gets to have something going on with you?” Tara did a poor job masking her surprise.

“What are you–” Adam gave her a pointed look.

“I’m a ‘kid’, as Dean says, but I’m not blind.” He grinned. Tara sighed.

“Fine. Yes, but as he said: I’m in the life and I hunt with them. Hard to be a weakness when we’re backing each other up.” 

“I suppose.” Dean came storming back into the kitchen.

“I’m going back to the cemetery. Hershey, you want in?” Tara shook her head. She could tell by his tone that Dean needed some space.

“No. I’d rather be here in case the monster comes.”

“Suit yourself.” He grabbed his keys and jacket and left. When Sam finally came back into the kitchen, he sighed and ran his hands through his hair.

“What put a bee in his bonnet?”

“I’ll tell you later.” He picked up the duffel bag, “Let’s get the house secure.”

She, Sam, and Adam went from room to room, laying down salt lines at every entrance and hammering planks over any vents big enough for Tara to fit through. That is, except for the vent in the bedroom floor.

“Alright. We’ve closed off every other way into the house. If this thing’s coming, it’s coming through here.” A creaking sound came from downstairs. Someone had just come in through the back door. It clearly wasn’t Dean–he didn’t call out and Tara couldn’t hear him stomping around.

“You were saying?” She hissed at Sam.

“Ditto.” Adam was a little less quiet about it.

“Adam!” An unfamiliar female voice called from downstairs.

“Mom?”

“No.” Sam tried to stop him, but it was too late. Adam was running.

“Mom!” Sam and Tara both called after him, but he was long gone. By the time they caught up with him, he was in the kitchen hugging something that looked like his mom.

“It took me.” She was saying, “But I got away.” Sam and Tara both pointed their guns at Kate.

“Adam, step away from her.”

“Guys, what the hell?!”

“She’s not your mother!”

“Adam, who–what’s going on?”

“Get away from him!” Sam ordered.

“What is going on?” Whatever this thing was, it was good at acting helpless.

“Adam, listen–”

“It’s really her, ok?” He positioned himself in front of her.

“Adam, you didn’t see the vent. There was too much blood.”

“Your mother’s dead.” He shot forward, trying to pull Adam away so Tara had a clear shot, but they ended up wrestling for the shotgun instead. And it was a struggle that Adam won. Tara trained her gun on Adam instead.

“Adam!” His mother cried.

“Shoot it!” 

“Now!” Tara motioned with her head, but kept the weapon trained on him.

“He’s crazy.” The monster insisted, “It’s me!” Adam pointed the shotgun at Sam.

“Hey!” Tara stepped between them, shoving her gun in Adam’s face, “I’m not afraid to pull this trigger and shatter your kneecap.” Adam quickly turned back to the monster.

“Now shoot it!” Sam yelled, “It’s not human!”

“I know.”

Tara never saw the blow coming. She’d been so focused on where he was pointing the gun, she completely missed that his elbow had been in the perfect place to strike her. Pain exploded in her neck and jaw and she was unconscious before she hit the floor.

\------

When Tara came to, she was bound to one of the kitchen chairs in the living room. Her arms had been twisted behind her and bound separately at the elbows and wrists. The rope pressed into her back in awkward places where it had been woven through the back of the chair. Duct tape had been wrapped around her midsection and over her thighs. Her feet had also been tied to the legs. The only part of her body she could move was her head. 

Five feet in front of her, Sam was bound spread-eagle to the table. The thing pretending to be Adam’s mom was leaning against it, humming and running a finger along the blade of a knife.

“You’re awake.” ‘Adam’ appeared from behind her, crouching to her level, “And here I was afraid you were going to miss the show. What was it you said earlier about not being a weakness cause you guys back each other up?” He mocked her words and retreated to the kitchen, laughing to himself.

Sam grunted, his arms straining against their bonds when he realized where he was. His eyes found Tara almost right away, and relief flashed in them when he saw she was alive. Only then did he confront the monster.

“Silver. No wonder none of the tests worked. You’re not shapeshifters. You’re ghouls.” The female turned around.

“You know, I find that term racist.” Sam gave a half-laugh at that, but she paid him no mind. The ghoul leaned over him, inhaling deeply. Sam flinched in disgust when she nibbled a bit on his ear.

“Fresh meat.” She said, “So much better than what we’re used to.”

“I should’ve known. It was the fresh kills that threw me. Ghouls don’t usually go after the living. See, you’re just filthy scavengers, feeding off the dead, taking the form of the last corpse you choked down.”

“And their thoughts, and their memories.” Adam came back into the room, “Like Adam, for instance.”

“Well, we are what we eat.”

“Monsters.” Sam spat. In retaliation, Adam cut into Sam’s forearm. Tara began to struggle when Sam cried out in pain. Almost immediately, the female ghoul was drinking from it.

“You know, you use that word a lot, Sam.” He stabbed the table not two inches from Sam’s face, “But I don’t think you know what it means.”

“His blood.” Kate remarked, “It tastes different.” Tara tensed. That had to be the demon blood in his system they were tasting.

“Our father was a monster?” Adam went on, “Why? Because of what he ate? He never hurt anyone, Sam. Living, anyway.”

“No.” Kate agreed as she ran a serrated blade around Sam’s collar, “He was no monster. But, the thing that killed him was. A monster named John Winchester.” Adam used the knife he was holding to create a puncture wound in Sam’s side. Tara’s breath caught in her throat when she saw how quickly the blood stained his light gray shirt. Adam wasted no time digging a finger into the wound, making Sam scream.

“Leave him alone!” Tara shouted. But Kate just smirked at her.

“Thanks to his daddy, my brother and I grew up on our own.” Adam poked at the wound again just to get another reaction out of Sam, “At least we had each other. Like you and your brother–inseparable. Actually, it was very hard to get you on your own.” She looked at Tara again, “Well, almost on your own.”

“Like you said, Sam. The only thing you can count on is family.”

“For twenty years, we lived like rats.”

“Graveyard after graveyard, all that stinking flesh.”

“Then we thought ‘hey, why not move up to fresher game?’”

“And we knew just where to start.” Adam opened the gash on Sam’s arm further. Tara could see his face contorting as he tried not to scream, “Revenge. It’s never over, is it, Sam?”

“First, it was John’s cop friend. And then his slut, and then his son.”

“Then I called John, but, the son of a bitch was already dead.” Sam smirked.

“So, I guess you three will have to do instead.” 

“But Dean won’t interrupt us this time. We’re gonna feed on you two nice and slow.” Adam was advancing towards her now while Kate stayed by Sam, “Like we did with Adam.”

“Oh, and by the way? He really was your brother.” Kate taunted Sam, “You should know that.” Adam crouched behind her, fresh blade in hand. Tara’s breaths were coming in short pants now, her ribcage restrained by the tape.

“Now. Sis is right, his blood  _ does _ taste different. Question is…” He ran the blade along her collarbone, “How does yours taste?” Tara closed her eyes and steeled herself, waiting for him to cut her open, but the cold metal vanished from her skin. She opened her eyes.

“What–” Red hot pain burned from her forearm as Adam slashed deep, creating a vertical cut. Sam only struggled harder at the blood-curdling scream that issued from her lips.

“No! You leave her out of this!”

“Mm.” She could hear Adam licking his fingers, and when she craned her neck, Tara could see her blood dripping down into a bowl, “Not like Sam’s, but still delectable. You stay right here, I’ll be back.” He patted Tara’s shoulder, jostling her arm and making her cry out again.

“You son of a bitch!” She growled.

“The point is for you to suffer.” Kate sneered at Sam.

“We couldn’t take John’s slut away from him, but we can take yours and we’ll feed on you both nice and slow. You know,” He leaned closer over Sam, “They were still alive when we took our first bites.”

“And they were screamers. Adam especially.” Without any other warning, Adam and his sister made slashes identical to Tara’s in Sam’s arms.

“Stop it!” Tara shouted, and squirmed in the chair as Sam writhed. Her arm throbbed with every movement.

“Guys,” Adam scolded them, “The more you struggle, the faster you’re gonna bleed out. So you might as well lie back and relax.” He came back towards Tara, twirling the bloodied knife. Tara shook her head rapidly, but that only made her vision spin. Adam gave her a shark-like grin.

“No!” Sam shouted.

“Hey!” Dean’s voice came over Sam’s. There was a gunshot, and Adam flew forwards, knocking Tara’s chair over. There was nothing she could do to brace herself and she landed heavily on her side.

“Dean, they’re ghouls!” She registered Sam’s voice over the ringing in her head. Dean fired again.

“Which means headshot.” Before Tara could shout a warning, Adam was up and had tackled Dean through the door. Tara moaned, trying to wriggle free from the chair, but that only made the blood flow faster from her arm.

Over Dean’s struggle with Adam, Sam heard Tara moan. Twisting his head, he saw her eyes starting to drift shut.

“No, don’t sleep Tara.” He urged her, “Stay awake, baby.”

“‘M not a baby.” Tara moaned at him. She whimpered, the pain in her arm becoming almost too much. But then, the sound of fighting stopped.

“Dean!” Sam called. Tara watched through warped and spinning vision as Dean cut Sam free and helped him sit up. Sam held his forearms in front of him gingerly, and Dean quickly put a pair of cloth napkins on them to stench the bleeding.

“Tara.” Sam gasped through the agony, “Get Tara.” Dean raced over to where she was on the floor and cut her free. Tara cried out when Dean touched her arm, unaware that she’d been cut too.

“Damn it.” He grabbed another cloth from the cabinet where he’d gotten Sam’s and pressed it to the cut, “Here. Keep the pressure on.” Tara sobbed, the full pain setting in now that the danger was gone while Dean finished freeing her from the chair.

“Alright, there we go.” He swept her up off the floor, and she did her best to keep her good hand pressed against the cloth. Blood was already seeping through the fabric.

“Thank you.” Sam said, getting off the table.

“That’s what family’s for, right?”

\------

Dean stitched and bandaged them both up back at the motel. Then he went back to the cemetery to retrieve Adam’s body. They went back out to the place where they’d taught ghoul-Adam to shoot and Dean built a pyre. He refused to let either of them lend a hand in anything since their wounds were fresh, so Tara and Sam sat on the hood of the Impala and watched. 

They leaned on each other, not really caring in that moment if Dean figured out what was going on between them. They both needed the support, and the other’s encouragement to not fall asleep just yet. 

Once Dean got Adam’s body wrapped and up on the pyre, they stepped forward.

“You sure we should do this?” Sam asked.

“Ghouls didn’t fake those pictures. They didn’t fake dad’s journal.” Dean responded as he sprayed the wood with gasoline, “Adam was our brother. He died like a hunter, he deserves to go out like one.” He stepped back to a safe distance by Sam and Tara.

“Maybe we can bring him back.” Sam suggested, “Get ahold of Cas, call in a favor.” But Dean just shook his head.

“No, Adam’s in a better place.” He struck a match and tossed it on the pyre. Almost immediately, the wood went up in flames. Tara could feel the warmth of it on her face. They watched the fire in silence for a few minutes before Dean spoke up.

“You know, I finally get why you and dad butted heads so much. You two were practically the same person.” Tara cocked her head at the comparison. It’s not one she would have made, but then again, she’d never known John.

“I mean, I worshipped the guy, you know? I dressed like him, I acted like him, I listen to the same music. But you were more like him than I will ever be, and I see that now.” Sam took a couple seconds to respond.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You take it any way you want.” Tara suddenly felt like she shouldn’t be there. That she should let Sam and Dean have this familial moment alone. She stepped back, as quietly as she could, but Sam stopped her. Without so much as turning his head, he reached back and took her hand. Tara stopped, stifling a gasp, but didn’t try to pull away again.


	28. The Rapture

Dean was certain there was something going on between Tara and his brother. They probably thought they were being so sneaky about it too, but ever since the case in Minnesota, he’d been noticing little things. Like how they always stood a bit closer to each other, how Sam seemed to use every little excuse he could find to touch her, the looks they sent each other when they thought he wasn’t looking, and the way that Tara’s air mattress had slowly been migrating closer and closer to Sam’s bed when it had started out just being in the middle of the room.

Not to mention, recently they’d been almost too eager for him to go out and get lucky. So eager, in fact, that last night, he’d pretended to go out. But really, he’d just parked Baby down the block and gone back to the motel after about an hour. Only to find an empty room. And when he’d asked them about it the following morning, they’d both said they just spent the evening in.

Not that he was going to call them out on it, he’d much rather find the perfect moment to ambush them. But not in the middle of anything spicy. No, that was a side of Sam that he encouraged, but never needed to see first hand.

Sam and Tara had settled into a comfortable routine as a couple. If they had an evening free, when they weren’t on a case, they’d find a way to get Dean out for the night and go on a date. Nothing extravagant, normally just out to dinner, but sometimes they caught a movie instead.

Their arms had healed nicely from the ghoul incident; the stitches had come out a couple days ago.

But they hadn’t gone out tonight. It was too late by the time they got in to do anything but crash. That didn’t last long, though. In the middle of the night, Dean shook both her and Sam awake, spewing something about Cas, a dream, and needing to go right that minute. 

On the way to the abandoned warehouse, they’d gotten a bit more out of him, but not enough to satisfy Sam’s curiosity.

“What’d he say, Dean? What was so important?” He asked as the three of them crept through the dark, wet halls.

“If I knew, would I be here?”

The warehouse had seemingly been abandoned for some time, until they got up to the second floor. There they were met with destruction; whatever equipment and other things worth abandoning had been thrown into disarray, creating an obstacle course and obstructing their view.

“What the hell?”

“Looks like a bomb went off.” As they made their way further into the room, something fizzed and crackled behind them. Tara jumped, whirling around, but it was just a light giving off sparks. Meanwhile, Dean surveyed the destruction.

“There was a fight here.”

“Between who?”

“And are they still here?” Tara’s free hand was itching to hold her gun. Dean turned, the beam of his flashlight illuminating a blood red sigil on the wall behind them.

“Check it out. Look familiar?”

“Yeah, it does.” 

“Anna used something like that wish the angels back to the cornfield.”

“So, what? Cas was fighting angels?”

“Or was he fighting demons and they blew him away?”

“I don’t know.” The three and them shifted to be a little closer together, all of them looking around for anything out of the already-not-ordinary.

“Sam. Tara.” Dean left the cluster, climbing through the clutter to a body lying prone on the ground. A body wearing a very familiar trenchcoat.

“Cas? Cas!” Dean shook him, and the angel came to, “Hey, Cas!”

“What’s–what’s going on?” Castiel flailed his arms a bit. He didn’t sound like Cas. In fact, he didn’t  _ look _ like Cas. He actually had an emotion on his face. Electrical sparks flew from a few different places and he jumped.

“Just take it easy.” Dean helped him sit up, “Take it easy.” Castiel patted himself a bit, as if to make sure he wasn’t injured, and then stood up.

“Cas, you ok?”

“What happened here?” Tara asked.

“Castiel? I’m not Castiel. It’s me.” Tara had to glance at the Winchesters to make sure they were as lost as she was.

“Who’s ‘me’?”

“Jimmy. My name’s Jimmy.”

“Where the hell is Castiel?” But Cas–Jimmy just shook his head.

“He’s gone.” For the first time since he woke up, he sounded absolutely sure.

\------

They brought Jimmy back to the motel room, where he proceeded to wolf down one fast food burger after another, eating faster than Tara had ever seen anyone eat–Dean included.

“Mind slowing down?” The short haired hunter finally said, “You’re gonna give me angina.”

“I’m hungry.” Jimmy mumbled around the food in his mouth.

“When’s the last time you ate?”

“I dunno, months.” He responded, taking another bite. Tara’s mouth dropped open just a bit. Ok, maybe this guy was entitled to all this eating after all. Not eating for  _ months _ ? Normally that wouldn’t be possible! Then again, being possessed by an angel for months wasn’t exactly normal either. They watched as Jimmy started in on another burger.

“What the hell happened back there?” Sam finally asked, “It looked like an angel battle royale.”

“All I remember is there was a flash of light, and I, uh...I woke up and I was just, you know, me again.”

“So what? Cas just ditched out of your meatsuit?”

“I really don’t know.” Jimmy didn’t bat an eye at the way Dean described his body.

“You remember anything about being possessed? Anything at all?”

“Yeah, bits and pieces. I mean, having an angel inside of you’s kinda like being chained to a comet.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound like much fun.”

“Understatement.” Jimmy deadpanned.

“Cas said he wanted to tell us something. Please tell me you remember that.” Tara’s heart sank when Jimmy shook his head.

“Sorry.”

“Come on. What  _ do  _ you know?” The man was quiet for a few seconds, examining all the empty wrappers on the table in front of him.

“My name is Jimmy Novak. I’m from Pontiac, Illinois, and I have a family that I’d like to return to.”

“Guys?” Sam recovered from the statement first, “We should take this outside.”

“Ok.” Jimmy stood up, “Let’s–”

“Oh, no, no.” Sam stopped him, “You stay here. Finish your food. We’ll only be a minute.” Then he ushered Dean and Tara outside.

“So what do we do?” He finally asked, once they were out of earshot from the door. Tara could see Jimmy’s silhouette pacing through the curtain.

“What do you mean? The guy’s got a family. We buy him a bus ticket, send him home.” Sam cringed.

“I don’t know about that.”

“So, what? We keep him with us? Drag him around?”

“He’s the only lead we got.”

“He doesn’t know anything.” Dean insisted.

“Are you 100% sure about that?” 

“You think he’s lying? What, do you wanna go all guantánamo on the guy?”

“Dean, maybe  _ he _ doesn’t even know what he knows.”

“But how does that help us in any way? He can’t tell us what he doesn’t know he knows.”

“Huh?”

“I say we at least get him to Bobby’s. Maybe all he needs is hypnosis–or a psychic.” Yeah, only this time they couldn’t call Pamela, “Hell, maybe Cas’ll just drop back into him.”

“I don’t know, man.” Dean was looking around, like he was worried about eavesdroppers.

“Dean, back there, that was angel-on-angel violence. Now I don’t know what’s going on, but it’s big, and we can’t just let the only lead we got just skip out.” Then he saw the look on Dean’s face, “What?”

“Sam, that lead is a person.” Tara said gently, “A person who’s worried about his family. Now maybe he said yes to Cas possessing him, but that doesn’t mean we can just drag him into this now that he’s...himself again, you know?”

“That won’t matter one bit when if demons get ahold of him.” Sam pointed out, “And they won’t call a psychic, they’ll grab a scalpel. So for now, we’re the safest option for him.” But Dean didn’t look any happier.

“Remember when out job was helping people? By getting them back to their family?”

“You think I don’t wanna help him? I’m just being realistic. I mean, hell, we’re doing him a favor.”

“And if he just so happens to remember the one thing we want, then goodie for us.” Dean’s words were harsh, but his face said he was giving in.”

“You have to admit,” Tara said, “It’s a win-win situation.” That is, for everyone but Jimmy.

“What the hell are you talking about, I can’t go home?” Were the first words out his mouth.

“There’s a good chance you have a bullseye on your back.” Dean explained.

“What? From who?” The three of them shared a look.

“Demons.”

“Come on, that’s crazy. What do they want with me?”

“I don’t know. Information, maybe.” Jimmy’s eyes bugged out.

“I don’t know anything!”

“I know, but–”

“Look, I’m done. Ok? With demons, angels, all of it. I just wanna go home.”

“We understand–”

“No, I don’t think you  _ do  _ understand. I’ve been shot, and stabbed and healed, and my body’s been dragged all over the Earth. By some miracle, I’m out, and I am done. I’ve given enough, ok?”

“Look,” Sam stood up from the coffee table because otherwise he was going to pull Tara into his lap, “All we’re saying is that until we figure this out, the safest place is with us.” Jimmy clenched his jaw in a very Castiel-equse way.

“How long?” None of them had a good answer right away.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” Jimmy wasn’t having it. He made for the door, but Sam stepped into his path.

“Where are you going?”

“To see my wife and daughter, ok?”

“No, you’re not. You’re just gonna put those people in danger.”

“So what? Now I’m a prisoner?”

“Harsh way to put it.”

\------

It wasn’t fun trying to have four grown adults–one of which didn’t want to be there–confined to one hotel room. Sam, Dean, and Tara made it work because they had to, but it seemed that just one more person made everything fall apart. Tara felt like they were constantly tripping over each other, and her mattress–pressed at it was into a corner–wasn’t helping matters. Eventually, Dean declared that it was time for bed. The three of them agreed to watch Jimmy in shifts in case he tried to leave. Dean took the first watch while Sam slept on the second bed and Tara on her mattress. Around 2am, Dean woke Tara and practically kicked Sam off the bed. He was older, he insisted, so Sam had to sleep on the floor. Sam glared, but didn’t protest. As soon as Dean was asleep, Sam offered to take Tara’s shift.

“No. Thanks, but I got this.” She insisted, “I want to really start pulling my weight.” Sam respected her decision and fell asleep not long after.

Tara struggled through her watch. There were a couple times when she caught her eyes drifting shut, but at that point she would get up and pace. Finally, 4am rolled around and it was time to wake Sam up. She crouched next to the mattress. Sam looked so peaceful. He was lying on his stomach, his head turned towards her and his mouth hanging open just a tad. His hair was a little ruffled, but in a cute way. Unable to resist, Tara reached out and tucked a lock behind his ear. 

At the first brush of her skin, Sam jolted awake, already reaching for his gun. Tara gasped softly and nearly fell backwards. Sam exhaled heavily, trying to calm his racing heart when he saw it was only her.

“Jesus Christ, Tara.”

“Sorry. It’s your watch.” Sam laid back and rubbed a hand down his face before hauling himself upright again. He scooted to the side, allowing Tara to slip past him and under the covers, but he didn’t stand up. Once Tara got herself settled on her side, Sam cautiously reached behind her and started rubbing her back.

“Is this alright?” He checked, knowing that if Dean woke up from one of his increasingly-rare nightmares from Hell, they would have no good excuse. But Tara nodded, her eyes already starting to close. Sam smiled softly, tucking her hair behind her ear like she’d tried to do with him.

Tara tried to hang on to some semblance of consciousness for as long as she could to enjoy the contact, but it was dark, and the covers were a warm cocoon thanks to Sam. She didn’t even notice herself drift off this time.

The next thing she knew, she was being shaken awake by a panicked Sam.

“We have to go. Now.”

“What?” Tara asked, eyes blurry, “Why?”

“I screwed up.” Sam muttered, “I left for two seconds and Jimmy got away.”  _ That _ got her up and moving.

Ten minutes later, she and Sam were nearly ready to go. Sam was shoving a few more things into a duffel and she was rolling up her mattress. Meanwhile, Dean was taking his sweet time brushing his teeth.

“Dean! Would you hurry up?” Dean just laughed around his toothbrush, “Sorry, uh, this is funny to you?” Sam grew even more annoyed.

“Mr. Big Bag prison guard and Jimmy McMook gives you the slip? Yeah, it’s pretty funny. What were you doing anyway?”

“I was getting a coke!” The way Sam said it make Tara falter as she shoved the mattress back into its bag. He sounded a little  _ too _ indignant about that. Had he accidently fallen asleep because he’d been sitting on the mattress with her instead of moving around? She hoped not.

“Was it a  _ refreshing _ coke?” Dean gave Sam a shit-eating grin. If he didn’t believe Sam, he wasn’t showing it. Maybe she was just reading too much into it.

“Can we just go, please?” Nope. Nope, he was definitely hiding something. But now wasn’t the time or place to ask about it.

\------

It didn’t take a genius to figure out where Jimmy had gone. All it took was one look at the bus schedule and Dean turned the Impala towards Pontiac. They were still a couple hours out, currently taking a detour around some highway construction. They were passing through another small, nameless town when suddenly, Tara wasn’t alone in the backseat.

“Hey, guys.” Anna appeared next to her. Tara screamed, the boys both shouted, and Dean swerved, nearly hitting an oncoming car.

“Geez!” The Winchesters looked over their shoulders at Anna while Tara tried to slow her breathing down.

“Smooth.” Anna said, nonplussed.

“You ever try calling ahead?”

“I like the element of surprise.” Dean gave her a longer look and grinned.

“You look terrific.”

“Um...yeah, not the most appropriate time, Dean.” She glanced at Sam and Tara uncomfortably, “You let Jimmy get away?”

“Talk to Ginormo here.” Dean didn’t hesitate to throw his brother under the bus.

“Sam…” At first, Tara thought Anna was going to chew him out, but she didn’t, “You seem...different.”

“Me?” He chuckled, trying to brush her off, “I don’t know, new haircut?”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” For a moment, Anna debated about whether or not to broach the topic of Sam’s new favorite drink, but ultimately decided they had bigger issues to deal with.

“So, what’d Jimmy tell you? He remember anything?”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“It’s Cas. He got sent back home. Well, more like  _ dragged _ back.”

“To heaven? That’s not a good thing?”

“No!” Anna exclaimed, “That’s a very  _ bad _ thing. Painfully, awfully bad. Cas must’ve seriously pissed someone off.”

“Cas said he had something to tell me–something important.”

“What?”

“I don’t know.”

“Does Jimmy know?”

“I don’t think so.”

“You don’t  _ think  _ so? Whatever it is, it’s huge. You gotta find out for sure.”   
“That’s why we’re going after Jimmy.” Sam tried and failed to appease her.

“That’s why you shouldn’t have let him go in the first place. He’s...probably dead already.”

“Seriously? You think the demons got to him that fast?” Tara asked.

“You saw how fast they came after me when I was still human.” Anna pointed out, “Yeah. Which is why you need to hurry.”

“Wait,” Dean butted in, “You’re not gonna be our angelic backup here?”

“I’m still one of heaven’s most wanted. I’m not looking to get myself caught, For what it’s worth, good luck.” There was a whoosh of invisible wings, and then it was just the three of them again. Dean immediately started complaining about how useless angels were if they weren’t willing to get their hands dirty, but Tara was more concerned with other matters. 

Anna had been able to tell with one look that Sam was different. Because of what it took to strengthen his powers. She could still see the wary look on Anna’s face in her head, and it was seriously making her question keeping the truth from Dean.

Dean drove as far as possible without another stop. It had long since gotten dark out, and Tara was one bump in the road away from wetting herself in the backseat when Dean finally pulled into a rest stop for gas. Tara made a beeline for the bathroom, and when she came back out, Sam was leaning on the checkout counter on his phone.

“I need more.” Was all she caught before he hung up.

“Sam?” He jumped a mile when he heard her voice and had no time to hide the guilty look on his face. Just from those three words, Tara was able to decipher who he’d been talking to.

“Tara. Hey. You ready to get back on the road?”

“Sam.” She crossed her arms, “What’s going on?” That’s when she noticed his hands shaking, “Are you...cold?” She reached out to take them. His skin was very warm to the touch and she could feel the muscles in his fingers twitching, “Sam, what’s going on?” He pulled his hands back.

“It’s nothing, I promise. Just a little jumpy.” Tara didn’t buy it for a second, but Dean was calling them from outside, “Come on.” Sam stepped back to a socially acceptable distance and let Tara walk out in front of him.

\------

As soon as they pulled up outside the Novak residence, Tara knew something was wrong. The front door was wide open and they could all see a man inside–not Jimmy–holding a knife to a young girl’s throat.

“Move, move, move!” Dena scrambled to park the car and get out. They ran up to the house, Dean carrying the demon-killing knife while Tara armed herself with holy water. Sam didn’t take anything. In the few seconds it took to run up to the house, she muttered an exorcism under her breath just to refresh her memory. Dean got into the house first, and before the demon knew they were there, he slit its throat. Tara was quick to grab the kid and pull her out of the way.

The man screamed and collapsed, but that wasn’t the end of it. Jimmy was on the floor and there were two women wrestling right next to him. The one with shorter, brown hair was too strong to not be possessed. When she saw her companion dead, the demon made a run for the girl, but she stopped before she could take more than two steps. 

Behind them, Sam had stretched out a hand. But something was different than the last time she’d seen Sam use his powers. When he’d killed Alastair, he’d been calm and made it look effortless. Now, he seemed to be struggling just to keep this random demon at bay. His jaw was clenched, his nose flared, and it looked like he was channeling all the strength of his torso into his arm.

“Go!” His voice was strained, “Get them outta here!” Tara didn’t want to leave him, but she didn’t take a choice. Jimmy pulled the other woman to her feet and they ran towards the back. It didn’t take much convincing on Tara’s part to get the girl to run with her.

“Come on!” She gave Jimmy and his wife (she assumed) a shove when they hesitated.

The four of them burst out the back door and onto the deck, but while Jimmy and his daughter went left, towards the gate, his wife went right.

“No, wait!” Tara called, but it was no use. She just kept running, “Damn it.” Jimmy was more important, so Tara followed them.

When they got back to the Impala, Jimmy clutched his daughter close.

“Oh, god.” Tara looked at the front door, relief flooding her system when Sam and Dean emerged relatively unharmed. The first thing Tara noticed was that Sam had blood drying around his nostrils.

“Where’s your wife?” Dean demanded.

“Right here.” She came running up to them with a coat in hand.

“Let’s go!” Dean went around the driver’s side. While the Novaks piled into the backseat, Sam opened the passenger door to let Tara in first. Then he pressed himself in next to her. As soon as he shut the door, Dean gunned the engine and the Impala shot off down the street.

\------

Dean didn’t stop until they were two towns over and had found a parking garage that didn’t look like it could afford a security system. He pulled in and went all the way to one of the upper floors where there were no cars and very little chance of them being discovered. By the time they arrived, Claire had fallen asleep in the back but the rest of them were wide awake. 

Amelia, Jimmy’s wife, stayed in the car with Claire while the four of them talked outside.

“You were right.” Jimmy admitted, before any of them could say anything.

“Sorry we were.”

“But I’m telling you. I don’t know anything.”

“I don’t think they’re inclined to believe you.”

“Even if they did, you’re a vessel. They’re still gonna wanna know what makes you tick.”

“Which means vivisection, if they’re feeling generous.” The way Sam and Dean left no pauses made it feel like they’d rehearsed this speech while Tara wasn’t in the room.

“I’m gonna tell you once again–you’re putting your family in danger. You have to come with us.” Jimmy looked back at the Impala, the look on his face rivalling Sam’s puppy dog eyes.

“How long?” All three hunters conveniently found something else to look at, “And don’t give me that ‘cross that bridge when we get to it’ crap.”

“Don’t you get it? Forever.” The finality of Sam’s tone made Tara flinch at bit, “The demons will never stop. You can  _ never _ be with your family. So, you either get as far away from them as possible or you put a bullet in your head, and that’s how you keep your family safe. But there’s no getting out and there’s no going home.” Tara bit the inside of her cheek. Where had the kind Sam gone? The one who had gently told her what being in this life meant? The one who had rubbed her back until she fell asleep? Had that all been an act? Was this? Or was the root cause something much worse?

“Well, don’t sugarcoat it, Sam.”

“I’m just telling him the truth, Dean.” Sam retorted, “Someone has to.” Jimmy bowed his head.

“Alright. I’ll come with you.” He looked back at the car, “But can I have a minute?”

“Yeah.” Dean nodded, “We’ve gotta get her a new used car anyway.” Jimmy opened his mouth, as if to ask how, but apparently thought better of it, and walked back to the Impala.

“Alright.” Sam said as soon as he was out of earshot, “I’ll handle the car.”

“I’ll come with.” Tara interjected, “I could use some practice hot-wiring.”

She and Sam walked down a couple levels in the garage before they found a car that fit what they were looking for: nondescript and functional. It was a silver, four-door sedan with minimal wear-and-tear, though it clearly wasn’t brand new. 

“You remember the basics?” Sam asked as she jimmied the door open.

“Yep.” She got in and popped the compartment under the steering wheel, “What the hell is going on, Sam?”

“What do you mea–”

“You know what.” She stopped and gave him a look, “Your powers. They’re weaker. Don’t think I didn’t see your bloody nose earlier. And before? At the gas station? You had the shakes. Sam, that’s a classic sign of–” She couldn’t even bring herself to say the word.

“Tara, I’m fine. I promise. I was just a little anxious earlier because the supply Ruby gave me is gone and I knew we were heading into a demon fight.” Tara paused again, right before she struck the two wires together.

“You’re sure that’s all this is? Because if I’m worried, you can bet Dean is too. I think it’s time to tell him.”

“No. Not yet.”

“Sam–” She struck the wires together and the engine started.

“Tara, please.” He bent down to her level, “Please.”

“You’re starting to worry me. And I can’t–I won’t ignore red flags again.”

“I’m not asking you to. Dean, he–he’s gonna be pissed about this. And I just think we should wait until we’ve gotten Jimmy somewhere safe. Then he can beat on me all he wants. But Jimmy has to come first.” Tara bit her lip and studied Sam’s face. He was giving her his best puppy eyes, but she wasn’t going to let that persuade her.

“Were you really getting a coke when Jimmy got away?” Sam glanced away.

“No.” He finally answered, “I was finishing the...stash.” He knew she didn’t like him outright saying that he was drinking blood, “I didn’t want either of them to wake up and see, you know? Or you.” Tara sighed.

“Alright. But as  _ soon _ as we get to Bobby’s you loop them in on this.” Sam nodded quickly.

“Agreed.” Before he could rethink it, he leaned in and kissed Tara on the cheek. Tara gasped at his sudden move, but it was over before she could fully take in the sensation. When Sam pulled back, her hand immediately went up to touch the spot where his lips had just been, a heavy blush painting her cheeks.

“We should get back.” Sam murmured, standing up, “Nice job with the car, by the way.” He went around to the other side and got in.

\------

They presented Amelia with her car and Tara showed her how to start it. After a quick farewell to his family, Jimmy got into the backseat with Tara and Dean drove off.

Once they hit the highway, Dean waited for Jimmy to fall asleep before confronting Sam.

“What the hell happened back there?” Tara, who had been on the verge of drifting off herself, sat up to listen in.

“What?” 

“You practically fainted trying to gank a demon.”

“Ok, I didn’t faint.” Sam tried to play it down, “I got a little dizzy.”

“Well you can call it whatever you want. Point is, you used to be strong enough to kill Alastair, and now you can’t even kill stunt demon number three?”

“Number two, technically.” Tara muttered, but neither Winchester heard her.

“What do you want me to say about it, Dean?”

“For starters, what’s going on with your mojo? I mean, it’s yo-yoing all over the place. Now I’m not trying to pick a fight here, ok? I just–you’re scaring me, man.”

“I’m scaring  _ myself _ .” Sam confessed softly. That only made Tara more uneasy. But before she could speak up, Sam’s phone rang.

“Hello? Who is this?” After a moment, he twisted around and nudged Jimmy, “Hey. It’s your wife.” Jimmy quickly sat up and accepted the phone.

“Amelia?” Whatever his wife said made Jimmy’s expression turn to one of quiet horror, “Oh my god.”

“What?” Tara tried to lean closer and listen in, but Jimmy shuffled even closer to the door. He listened Amelia for a minute or so before he hung up.

“We have to turn around. Right now.”

“Why? What’s going on?” Dean demanded.

“It’s Amelia.” Jimmy’s voice trembled a bit, “She’s been possessed.”

\------

Dean performed a full-on action movie U-turn in the middle of the highway and sped back to town. The demon had given Jimmy the address of an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts, so that’s where they went. Much like the last abandoned factory, it looked run down and close to falling apart. But, unlike the last one, there were lights on inside.

“Alright,” Dean said as soon as they got out of the car, “They’re expecting you to come alone so that’s exactly what you’re gonna do.”

“We’ll work our way through the catwalks and be right behind you.”

“You just need to stay calm and stall; let us do our job.”

“You want me to stay calm?!” Jimmy snapped at Dean, “This is my family we’re talking about!”

“Everything’s going to be ok.” Tara tried to reassure him.

“This will work, you understand? Nobody’s gonna get hurt.”

“Whatever.” Jimmy shrugged his trenchcoat on and stalked off, “Give me a minute, ok?” Sam waited until he vanished behind a dumpster before turning to Dean and Tara.

“There’s no way they’re expecting him to come alone, Dean. You know this is probably a trap.”

“Yeah, I know. And that’s why Hershey here’s gonna stay in the car.” Tara rolled her eyes.

“Seriously, Dean? I thought we got past this months ago.”

“We did. Don’t worry, I have a plan.” He grinned cockily, and Tara huffed.

“I wish I had your confidence.”

But Dean never got the chance to implement his ‘genius plan’ to leave Tara outside the warehouse armed with holy water. They had to take the knife in with them, he said, because if it wasn’t on them, the demons would suspect a trap. But they had demons on them before Sam and Dean even entered the warehouse. There were three of them–two big guys and a blonde woman. The guys had almost no problems subduing the Winchesters, and Tara only got the woman once with the holy water before she found herself restrained, arms bound behind her back.

“You’ll pay for that sting, bitch.” The demon hissed at her. Tara stuck out her tongue as all three of them were marched into the warehouse. Amelia was there waiting, looking very smug. Claire was unconscious and tied to a chair, and Jimmy looked terrified.

“Nice plan, Dean.”

“Yeah, well, nobody bats a thousand.”

“Yeah, well, this was supposed to be a layup according to you.” Tara squirmed a bit, but that only made the demon’s grip on her arms tighten.

“Got the knife?” Amelia ignored their banter. The demon restraining Sam held up the weapon. Amelia smiled.

“And you know what’s funny?”

“You’re wearing a soccer mom?” Dean sassed. 

“Is I was actually bummed to get this detail.” Amelia confessed, “Picking up an empty vessel–sort of like a milk run. Now look who landed in my lap.”

“You got us, ok? Let these people go.”

“Oh, Sam.” Amelia mocked him, “It’s easy to act chivalrous when your Wonder Girl powers aren’t working, huh? Now for the punchline.” She cocked a gun Tara hadn’t seen her pull out and pointed it at Sam, “Everybody dies.” Tara started to struggle, but the demon holding her whacked her upside the head. But Amelia didn’t shoot Sam. She turned at the last second and fired at Jimmy. 

He staggered and fell to his knees, both hands going to the bloody wound in his abdomen.

“Waste little orphan Annie.” Amelia told the demon holding Sam. He grinned. The demon holding Tara hit her one more time just for fun, and then adjusted her grip on her so she could restrain Sam too.

“Tara.” Sam whispered, trying to see if she was alright.

“Shut up.” The demon snapped at him.

“‘M fine.” Tara groaned, trying to get her head to stop spinning. The other demon had reached Claire by the time she succeeded, and had picked up a long pole. Tara knew she didn’t want to watch this, that she should close her eyes, but she found herself glued to the horror unfolding in front of her. The demon swung hard, but before the pole could made contact, Claire suddenly woke up and grabbed it. In the blink of an eye, she’d pulled the demon in close and laid a hand on his forehead. It wasn’t until light shone from inside the demon that Tara realized Claire was possessed by an angel. 

She, Sam, and Dean took advantage of their captors being caught off guard. Dean started to wrestle with his demon while Sam practically shoved Tara away. Then, he grappled with the blonde, pulling the knife free from the back of her pants.

Tara fell to the floor, slightly dazed. Neither Winchester was doing very well, but Sam had the knife, so she went to help Dean. The demon had just slammed him against a rusty metal barrel when Tara struck, bringing a knee up between the demon’s legs. The man shouted in pain, allowing Dean the upper hand. He tackled the demon to the floor and started rattling off an exorcism, but suddenly, Claire–or was it Castiel?–was there. She placed a hand on the demon’s head, and a moment later, his body went limp. Dean got up, breathing hard, and they all turned to help Sam.

Tara’s hands flew up to her mouth when she saw what Sam was doing. He’d managed to pin the demon to the floor and get the knife back, but instead of killing her, he’d opened a cut on her neck and was drinking greedily. Next to her, she saw Dean frozen in similar shock.

Tara was going to be sick. She’d known he was drinking demon blood, but that was so much different from seeing him do it. 

She must’ve made a noise, because suddenly Sam pulled back and turned around. His mouth and chin were completely coated in blood. He knew he should have felt ashamed at the look of horror on Tara’s face, or the one of shocked disgust on Dean’s, but he couldn’t feel anything past the high. After determining that Dean wasn’t going to attack him, Sam quickly stabbed the demon beneath him.

Tara felt locked inside her own body, unable to do anything but watch as Sam seemed to enjoy the sounds the demon made when it died. Then, he stood up and a hand shot out towards them. Tara couldn’t help the way she flinched alongside Dean, but Sam wasn’t trying to attack either of them.

Behind them, Amelia stumbled forward and black smoke poured from her mouth. Unlike back at the house, Sam didn’t struggle. In fact, it looked more like he was getting off on it.

Sam didn’t relax his stance until the black smoke vanished into the fiery pit and the first thing Dean did was run to Amelia’s side and make sure she was alright. Sam took a few deep breaths to get his racing heart under control, and stepped towards Tara. But the brunette just backed up, fear shining in her eyes. Sam realized he still had demon blood smeared on his face, and made an effort to wipe it off.

“Are you ok?” He asked, trying to approach her again. Tara let him come a bit closer, but still backed away before he was close enough to touch her.

“I’m sorry I scared you.”

“Sam, I–”

“Come on. We have to help Jimmy.” Dean had Amelia on her feet and was walking back towards the center of the room. They found Jimmy leaning against a pillar, crying. Castiel, still possessing Claire, was down on one knee next to him.

“I want to make sure you understand.” She was saying, “You won’t die, or age. If this last year was painful for you, picture a hundred–a thousand more like it.” Jimmy reached up and grabbed her arm.

“It doesn’t matter. You take  _ me _ . Just take  _ me _ .” Tara found tears clouding her eyes at the raw emotion and pain in Jimmy’s words.

“As you wish.” She placed her hands on Jimmy’s cheeks, and light shone from within Jimmy. The light got brighter and brighter, but Tara didn’t feel the urge to look away like she had when Anna’s grace was restored. It built slowly, and then was gone in the blink of an eye. Claire fell forward, no longer possessed, but Jimmy didn’t catch her. Instead, Castiel stood and came over to them. Amelia stepped forward and Tara saw the hope in her eyes die when Castiel didn’t give her a second look. That is, until he got to where she’d been standing. Then, he looked over his shoulder. 

Amelia was on the ground, hugging Claire to her. She had tears streaming down her cheeks. He spared them only a moment of his emotionless gaze before he started walking again.

“Cas, hold up.” Dean stopped him. Tara saw the muscles in Castiel’s jaw roll as he turned around again, “What were you gonna tell me?”

“I learned my lesson while I was away, Dean.” The emotionless voice was back, “I serve Heaven, I don’t serve man. And I certainly don’t serve you.” This time, when he turned to go, none of them stopped him.

They got Amelia set up with another car. This time, when Sam went to hot wire one, Tara stayed behind with Dean to wipe down their prints as best they could.

“Did you know?” Dean asked suddenly as they were finishing up.

“Know what?” Tara asked, folding her rag and throwing it into the trunk.

“About the demon blood. You didn’t look surprised when you saw him go all vamp on that blonde chick. You just looked grossed out.” He tossed his own rag in the trunk and checked his phone.

“Well, I thought I was gonna puke so I guess that’s accurate.” When Dean didn’t immediately respond to her snark, she scuffed the toe of her shoe on the ground and nodded, “Yeah, I knew. But I didn’t know it was this bad.”

“What do you mean ‘this bad’?” She had his full attention now.

“I thought it was just kind of a boost, you know? Like a mushroom in Mario Kart or something. But earlier, back at that gas station, he...he had the shakes. Like he was going into…”

“Withdrawal.” Dean didn’t make her spit the word out herself.

“And I know he was scared that you’d be pissed when you found out, and he promised that after this case, he was gonna tell you, and I promised I’d stay out of it, but I’ve never seen him drink it before, and it just…” She bit her lip to stop the word vomit, “It scared me.” She finally finished.

“Well, he was right about one thing.” Dean admitted, “I’m fucking pissed. And I’m done with the lies from him. But the real question is,” It took all his effort to keep a grin from making itself known, “Why’d he tell you?” Tara felt a blush spread across her face and down her neck.

“Well, he–I–we–um…” By this point, Dean was smirking at her, “You know?” He outright laughed at that.

“Hershey, I practically raised that kid. Yeah, I know when he’s got a secret somethin’-somethin’ going on.”

“There is no something-something!” Tara insisted. Dean just wiggled his eyebrows at her.

“Yet.”

“Shut up!” She whacked him on the shoulder right as Sam came back with the car.

“Ok, here’s you car.” He left the door open and engine running. Tara watched as mother and daughter got into the little black sedan and drove off. As Sam walked back over, she wanted to find a way to signal to him that Dean knew about them, but couldn’t think of anything fast enough. So she got into the back and started mentally preparing herself for Dean to start an argument.

\------

Ironically, it was Sam who spoke first. They’d been on the road for about half an hour and Dean hadn’t spoken, hadn’t even put on music. The only sounds were that of the engine, the rain, and the windshield wipers. Tara had been on the verge of saying something herself to try and ease the tension when Sam beat her to it.

“Alright. Let’s hear it.”

“What?”

“Drop the bomb, man. You saw what I did, come on. Stop the car, take a swing.”

“I’m not gonna take a swing.” Dean had the same calm tone he’d had earlier before he started teasing.

“Then scream. Chew me out.”

“I’m not mad, Sam.”  _ That _ got Tara’s attention. If Dean hadn’t told her differently earlier, she would’ve believed him. 

“Oh, come on. You’re not mad?”

“No.”

“Right. Look, at least let me explain myself.”

“Don’t.” Dean took advantage of Sam’s glancing away to lock eyes with Tara in the rearview mirror. When she saw the look in his eyes, she shut her mouth. There was a look in his eyes that told her this was a test, that demanded her to play along, “I don’t care.” His tone didn’t even hint at his silent communiqué with Tara.

“You don’t care?” Sam finally looked at him, incredulous. Then he looked back at Tara, who shrugged.

“What do you want me to say, that I’m disappointed? Yeah, I  _ am _ . But mostly, I’m just tired, man, and I’m done. I am just done.” To Tara, it sound almost exactly like what he’d said to her earlier, minus the part about him being pissed. But before she could ponder his motives on leaving that bit out, Sam’s phone rang.

“Amelia had better not be possessed again.” Tara muttered.

“Hey, Bobby.” That made her smile. It had been too long since she’d spoken to Bobby, “What’s going on?”

“Gimme.” Tara leaned over and reached for the phone, but Sam closed the phone.

“He hung up, sorry b–Tara.” He cringed at the slip-up, but Dean didn’t seem to notice, thankfully.

“What’d he say?”

“How fast can we get to his place?” Sam asked. In response, Dean pressed down harder on the gas pedal and Baby’s engine roared.

They got to Bobby’s just after sunrise. Sam had tried to encourage her to catch some sleep, but she was too excited at the prospect of being back at Bobby’s for a bit. When they got there, after a quick hello, Bobby pointed them down to the basement. The Winchesters went down the stairs first while Tara hung back with Bobby.

“Well, thanks for shaking a tail, glad you got here.” Bobby opened the door to the panic room and stood back to let them in.

“Now go on inside, I wanna show you something.”

“Alright.” Sam stepped inside, and Tara moved to follow, but Dean grabbed her arm and held her back.

“Dean?”

“So, uh, what’s the big demon problem?” Sam turned back only to see that Bobby, Dean, and Tara were still outside the panic room.

“You are. This is for your own good.” Before Tara’s mind could register what Bobby had said, he and Dean had slammed the door to the panic room shut. Only once the lock thudded in place did Sam seem to realize it wasn’t a joke.

“Guys?” Tara could see him through the bars of the peep hole. See the hurt look in his eyes, “Tara?”

“Wait.” She finally broke free from the freeze response, “You can’t be serious!” But Bobby just covered the peep hole from the outside.

“Hey. Guys!” Sam shouted, “This isn’t funny!” His voice was muffled by the thick iron door, “Tara!”

“I’m sorry, Hershey.” Dean said to her, “But you said yourself, he scared you. So he’s getting the cold turkey treatment.” Inside the panic room, she could still hear Sam shouting at them and pleading for her to open the door.

“Can we trust you to keep him in there?” Bobby looked at her, arms crossed. Tara’s chest was heaving. It hurt so much to hear Sam calling for her, but then the image of him hunched over that demon, drinking her blood, came to mind and she nodded. 

Sam slammed his fist against the door, the resounding  _ bang _ making her jump.

“Come on.” Dean started herding her towards the stairs, “If you show me how to make those pancakes, I’ll fix us some breakfast.” Tara reluctantly went up the stairs first, but not before sparing one last look at the door to the panic room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I'm finally done with the semester. There should be 1-2 updates a week now until the next one starts!


	29. When The Levee Breaks

Tara was sitting halfway down the basement stairs. It was nearly evening, and not for one minute had she been able to stop thinking about Sam. Sam, who was trapped on the other side of the panic room door. Sam, her boyfriend–and she could use the label openly now that Dean and therefore Bobby knew she was dating the younger Winchester–who had gotten himself hooked on demon blood.

“Hey.” Dean came down behind her and stopped at eye level, “You can’t keep doing this to yourself. Now, Bobby made his pot roast for dinner, and I know that’s your favorite. But you have to go eat in the kitchen.” Tara gave him a woeful look and glanced at the door for the upteenth time. Sam was quiet right now. She wasn’t sure if that was better or worse than when he was yelling.

“What are you gonna do to him?”

“Right now? Just talk. I’ll throttle him when he’s clean.” Dean finished descending the stairs and opened the peephole. As soon a he did, Sam stopped pacing and turned towards him.

“Ok. Let me out, this is not funny.”

“Damn straight.”

“Dean, come on.” Sam walked over, “This is crazy.” Dean shifted his weight a bit, making sure he was blocking Sam’s view of Tara.

“No. Not until you dry out.” Sam rolled his tongue around in his mouth.

“Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lied to you, and I shouldn’t have put Tara in the position that I did. Just...open the door.”

“You don’t have to apologize.” Dean’s voice was dangerously calm, “It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault that you lied to me, over and over again. I get it now, you couldn’t help it.”

“I’m not some junkie!” Sam tried to deny it.

“Really? I guess I’ve just  _ imagined _ how strung out you’ve been lately, and Tara just  _ imagined _ your shakes and fever when your were out of extra bitch juice.” Sam huffed, running his hands through his hair.

“You’re  _ actually _ trying to twist this into some kind of ridiculous drug intervention?”

“If it smells like a duck.”

“Dean, I am not drinking the demon blood for  _ kicks _ . I’m getting strong enough to kill Lilith!”

“Strong?”

“Yeah!” 

“This is about as far away from strong as you can get. Try weak. Try desperate. Pathetic!” Tara felt herself shinking where she sat. Many of those words could be turned around and used on her. She’d kept the secret, even when it didn’t feel quite right. And because what? She’d wanted to be in a relationship with Sam? She sighed and rested her chin on her knees as shame radiated out from her chest. She really needed to get her priorities in line. Because here she was, right now, moping.

“Killing Lilith is what matters.” Sam was insisting, “Or are you so busy being self-righteous you forgot about her?”

“Oh, Lilith’s gonna die. Bobby, Tara, and I will kill her. But not with you.”

“You’re not serious.”

“Congrats, Sammy. You just bought yourself a benchwarmer seat to the Apocalypse.” He started to close the hatch.

“Dean, no, wait! Where’s Tara?” That got Dean to pause, “Please. I just wanna talk to her.”

“Why? So you can try and guilt her into letting you out? Dumb move, by the way. She wants you clean just as much as Bobby and me.” He closed the hatch the rest of the way.

“No, Dean!” Sam pounded on the door, “Let me out of here!” But Dean ignored his brother, instead stopping by Tara on the stairs again.

“Come on. You don’t need to keep punishing yourself like this.” He told her. Reluctantly, Tara let him coax her to her feet. Her knees groaned as she straightened her legs and her tailbone ached from sitting in the same position on the hard wood for so long. But she shook herself out and followed Dean up into the kitchen. When they got to the top of the stairs, they could still hear Sam shouting and at this point, Dean was starting to look like a kicked puppy.

“This has to be done.” Tara found herself saying. She didn’t know where she’d found the strength, but it seemed to be exactly what Dean needed to hear.

“You’re right.” He turned and shut the door behind them, drowning Sam out completely.

\------

But by nightfall, even the basement door couldn’t contain the sound of Sam’s yelling any longer. Shortly after they’d finished watching the dishes, Dean finally convinced Tara that a hot shower would do her good. It had, until she got back downstairs and Sam’s screaming became audible on the entire ground floor. It was almost midnight now. 

Sam wasn’t shouting to be let out anymore; now he sounded like he was in agony. Screaming for someone to stop. Bobby and Dean were mainlining whiskey while Tara just curled up on the sofa and clamped her hands over her ears.

“Here.” Dean nudged her, a glass of whiskey in his hand. Tara removed her hands from her ears to tell Dean no, but Sam chose that particular moment to cry out again.

“No! Stop it! Please!” Without another hesitation, Tara grabbed the offered glass and drained it, coughing a bit as the liquid burned her throat.

“Attagirl.” Dean poured her another shot. Once Tara finished it, her head started to get a little light and she was able to let herself relax a bit.

Then Sam screamed again.

“How long is this gonna go on?” Dean finally asked Bobby the obvious question.

“Here, lemme look it up in my demon-detox manual.” Bobby reached for one of the many closed books stacked on his desk, “Oh, wait. No one ever wrote one. No telling how long it’ll take. Hell, or if Sam will even live through it.” Tara tried to muffle the sob that burst from her throat when Bobby said that, failing miserably. Down in the panic room, Sam screamed again. She didn’t know if she could do it. Watch someone she’d gotten close to die again. Dean squeezed her shoulder gently, but didn’t tell her that everything was going to be alright. Because he didn’t know.

One of Bobby’s many phones rang.

“Hello? Suck dirt and die, Rufus. You call me again, I’ll kill you.” He slammed the phone down. 

“What’s up with Rufus?”

“He knows.” Bobby replied. The phone rang again, and the older hunter snatched it up, “I’m busy, you sumbitch. This better be important.” Tara sniffled, wiped her nose on her sleeve, and looked up. From the startled look Bobby shot Dean, it wasn’t good news on the other end of the line.

“I’ll look into it.” He said gruffly after a few minutes, and hung up.

“What?” Tara asked immediately, “What is it?” Bobby sighed.

“I need to do some checking. Dean, why don’t you take her outside for a bit?”

“Bobby, come on–” Dean started to protest.

“No, I want to help–” Tara was cut off by the sound of Sam yelling. Dean saw the way her chin trembled, and gave in.

“Come on, Hershey.” He went and grabbed a few things from the kitchen before returning to the sofa, “Let’s take a walk.”

Even though it was August now, the night was cold. Tara wrapped herself tightly in her jacket while she and Dean walked out to the red pickup truck. Before he hopped up onto the bed, Dean put what he’d grabbed from the kitchen down next to Tara and was pleased with himself when he saw her eyes light up a bit.

“Bailey’s?” She picked up the bottle.

“With vanilla ice cream and two spoons.” Dean put the cutlery on top of the ice cream carton. Tara grabbed them and opened the ice cream. The gallon-sized container was about about two thirds gone.

“Did you bring bowls?” Dean smirked and poured the Bailey’s right into the ice cream.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

They sat and ate in silence for awhile. The whiskey from earlier, combined with the sugar and additional alcohol, helped numb Tara’s emotions a bit. 

“How are you holding up?” Dean broke the silence. Tara shot him a look and he looked back down at the ice cream, “Right. Stupid question.”

“Not good.” She took another bite, letting the ice cream melt in her mouth a bit before she swallowed, “I hate hearing him...like that.”

“Yeah. My time in Hell, I heard plenty of that. Hell, I  _ caused _ plenty of that. But…” Tara nodded.

“Yeah.” It was different when it was your own brother.

“Remember the first time we were out here?” Dean changed the subject, and Tara laughed in spite of herself.

“I was a fucking cat.” Dean grinned.

“Yup. A lot’s different now. You’re human again, you’re banging my baby brother–”

“I’m  _ not _ . We’re just dating.”

“Suuure.”

“Dean.”

“No, I’m serious! I think you’ll be good for him. He could use a normal relationship after...”

“After what? After he somehow survives this detox?” Tara picked up the ice cream container. They’d been out here so long that the ice cream had melted, mixing with the Bailey’s to create a sticky, warm, sweet sludge. She lifted it to her lips and drank straight from it.

“No.” Dean shook his head, “I mean after Ruby, and M–” He realized she probably didn’t know about the werewolf.

“Madison?” Tara asked, “I read  _ Heart _ last week.” She explained.

“It’s so messed up that that guy is profiting off of our lives.” Dean shook his head, “But yeah.”

“Well I’m not sure you’d be able to call any relationship I have with Sam ‘normal’.”

“Why? Because we all hunt together?”

“No. Because I’m so...damaged.”

“And you think Sam’s not?”

“Yes–no–I don’t know, I–”

“Tara, let me tell you something.  _ Everyone _ is damaged in some way. Everyone has baggage. Some more than others. But that don’t mean you can’t have a healthy relationship with someone.”

“Maybe.” If Sam lived to see the light of day again.

“Hey.” Dean eased the ice cream out of her hands and put it down between them, “I know it may not seem like it now, but he really cares. Kid has a big heart, but for awhile, after Jess and then Madison, I didn’t think he’d let anyone in like that again. Now, I see the way he is with you, and I’m glad I was wrong.” Tara wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that.

“Thanks?” She picked the ice cream container back up and drained it. Dean chucked a bit at her reaction.

“You’re welcome. Come on, let’s go see what Bobby’s got.” He hopped down from the bed of the pickup.

When they got back inside, Bobby had a stack of papers for them.

“The news...the news ain’t good.” Dean took the papers and started leafing through them.

“This is what Rufus called about?”

“What is it?” Tara peeked over Dean’s shoulder. They were all front page stories, each headline more gruesome than the last.

“Key West sees ten species go extinct.” Dean read one of them aloud.

“Yep. Plus, Alaska, 15-man fishing crew all stricken blind–cause unknown. New York–teacher goes postal, locks the door, kills exactly 66 kids. All this in a single day? I looked them up. There’s no doubt about it; they’re all seals. Breaking–fast.”

“How many are left?” Dean asked the obvious.

“Who knows?” Bobby shrugged, “Can’t be many.” 

“Yeah, and there’s probably no way to track them all down. I mean,” Tara looked up from the article in front of her, “Several of them probably never even made the papers.”

“What I wanna know is where the hell are your angel pals?”

“You tell me.” Dean grumbled.

“I’m just wondering…” Bobby walked around the desk. From the way he was moving, Tara could tell she and Dean weren’t going to like what he had to say.

“What?” Dean prompted.

“With the Apocalypse being nigh and all, is now really the right time to be having this little domestic drama of ours?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I don’t like this any more than you do but...Sam can kill demons. He’s got a shot at stopping Armageddon.”

“So, what? Sacrifice Sam’s life, his soul, for the greater good? Is that what you’re saying? Times are bad, so let’s use Sam as a nuclear warhead?”

“No way.” Tara protested, “That’s not what you’re saying, is it?” She looked at Bobby pleadingly.

“Look, I know you both hate me for suggesting it.  _ I _ hate me for suggesting it.”

“Good!” Tara exclaimed, “Because it’s not happening!”

“Tara, I love that boy like a son.” Bobby tried to defend himself, “All I’m saying is, maybe he’s here right now, instead of on the battlefield, because we love him too much.”

“Or maybe we don’t wanna see him overdose on demon blood when there might be another way!” 

“There  _ is _ another way.” Dean added, “Cas said only I could stop this so that’s what I’m gonna do.”

“Yeah, well  _ Cas _ isn’t here now, is he?” Bobby pointed out, “I’m just saying, if he doesn’t show–”

“No.” Tara stopped him abruptly, “We’re not having this conversation right now.” She stormed towards the door to the basement.

“Where are you going?” Dean called after her.

“To see Sam!” She slammed the door shut behind her and descended the stairs. As soon as the door slammed, Dean went to leave too.

“Where are you going?” Bobby demanded, exasperated.

“Outside.” Dean snapped back, “I’m gonna make Cas come to me and get some fucking answers.”

\------

Tara leaned against the iron door of the panic room and sank to the floor until she was sitting in the middle of the devil’s trap. She let her head thud gently against the cold metal and closed her eyes. She hated this. Hearing Sam suffer, and hearing Bobby talk about the prospect of using Sam to kill Lilith and then deal with the consequences later...for the first time, Tara was seriously reconsidering her decision to become a hunter. 

“Tara?” Sam’s voice came from inside the panic room. He wasn’t yelling. In fact, he sounded...small. Defeated, almost.

“Yeah.” She answered, trying to keep her voice steady, “Yeah, Sam. It’s me.”

“You here to yell at me too? Tell me what a freak I am?”

“What? No! Sam, I...God. I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Can I see you?” Tara squeezed her eyes shut at the brokenness in his voice. She wanted to see him too, but she wasn’t sure if she could do it without breaking.

“Please.” Sam added when she didn’t respond. Tara rubbed a hand down her face. She could almost see the puppy dog eyes.

“Alright.” She replied, too softly for Sam to hear. Then she stood up, and opened the hatch to the peephole with trembling hands. 

Sam was right there on the other side, his big, multi-colored eyes gazing at her through the bars. Tara didn’t miss the way his nose flared when he saw her.

“Tara.” He breathed. She look so exhausted. Her hair was frizzy, the skin under her eyes darker than usual, and he could see the faint remains of tear trails on her cheeks. But still, she was beautiful to him.

“Tara, please. You have to open the door.” She shook her head.

“I’m sorry, Sam. I can’t do that.”

“Then why?”

“I just needed–I needed to see you, I just–” She reached up for the bars, but stopped herself before her fingers could touch them, “I needed to see if you were alright.”

“I’m  _ not _ .” He put his own hand up to the bars, sticking his fingers through and gripping the metal until his knuckles turned white, “I’m not alright. The demon blood, it’s...it’s in me, and–”

“You have to fight it, Sam. Please.”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I  _ can’t _ .”

“Try.” She begged, “Just a little longer. Dean’s working on another way to kill Lilith right now.”

“There is no other way. Please, babe. Let me out.” But Tara shook her head again.

“I’m sorry, Sam.” Unable to resist any longer, she lifted her hand and grazed Sam’s fingers with her own. His skin was feverish to the touch, and he shuddered at the contact. But it was over before he could savor it, and the hatch was closing.

“Wait, don’t go.”

“I’m not.” Tara said, “I’m going to stay here. I promise.” She closed the hatch as gently as she could, and sank back down on the floor. The soft thunk on the door told her that Sam was sitting against it on the other side in a similar fashion. Tara pressed herself against the cold metal, wishing it wasn’t between her and Sam, wishing she could do as he asked and let him out, but she knew she couldn’t. For now, this was the way it had to be.

That’s where Dean found her when he came back in later. Curled up inside the devil’s trap in front of the panic room door, sleeping. On the other side, he could hear Sam muttering to himself.

“C’mon, Hershey.” He picked her up off the floor. Tara stirred a bit, but she didn’t wake. Dean carried her upstairs, to the room she’d stayed in while she shoulders were healing, and tucked her under the covers after pulling her shoes off. Even then, she remained asleep.

“I’m gonna fix this, Tara.” Dean promised as he closed the blinds in anticipation of the sunrise, “I promise.”

\------

Tara was disoriented at first when she woke up. The surface underneath her was much softer than the concrete basement floor, and the air wasn’t nearly as cold. Groaning, she sat up. It took her a few moments of looking around to realize that she was in her bedroom. Had Dean moved her up here without her waking up? One thing was for sure, her back and neck weren’t happy with her for falling asleep in the basement.

She slid out of bed and padded downstairs in her socks.

“Guys?” She looked into the study, but there was no one there, “Bobby? Dean?” She called, a bit louder this time, and peeked into the kitchen. It was equally deserted. That’s when she heard the yelling downstairs.

“Dean?!” Tara shouted, descending the stairs two at a time without bothering to put on shoes. When she got to the bottom, she used to railing to swing herself around, and nearly fell over at what she saw. The panic room door was wide open and Bobby and Dean were inside, tying a squirming Sam to the twin bed.

“Sam!” Tara ran into the room, but Dean held a hand out.

“Stay back, Tara.”

“What are you doing?!”

“The demon blood was flinging him all over the room.” He answered. Bobby padded Sam’s ankle with a towel before fastening a cuff around it. Then the two of them stood back and surveyed their job. If–no– _ when _ Sam woke, he’d be able to sit halfway up, but not much else. His skin was even more pale than last night and had taken on a sheen of sweat.

“Sam?” Despite their protests, Tara sat down on the bed and brushed his hair away from his face. His skin was uncomfortably warm, and he didn’t stir at all at the contact.

“Sam, please.” She wasn’t sure what she was asking him for. To wake up? To get through the detox alive? To get back to his normal self? All of the above, she supposed.

“Tara.” Dean placed a hand on her shoulder, “We need to go. It’ll only make it worse for both of you if you stay.”

“I know.” Her voice was thick, the only thing keeping her from breaking down completely was the slow rise and fall of Sam’s chest. Dean squeezed her shoulder, gently pulling her to her feet.

“Come on.” He didn’t try to lure her with the promise of food or drink. It was past time for that now. But Tara was past the point of fighting. She followed Dean out of the panic room, sparing one last glance behind her at Sam. As if in those few seconds when her back was turned, he would have woken up. He hadn’t. Nor did he suddenly start shouting when Bobby closed the panic room door.

“I’m gonna ask one more time.” Bobby said after they’d been sitting in silence in the study for over an hour, “Are we  _ absolutely _ sure we’re doing the right thing?”

“Bobby, you saw what was happening to him down there. The demon blood is killing him!”

“No, it isn’t.  _ We  _ are.” There it was. Tara’s silent fear voiced aloud.

“What?”

“I’m sorry. I can’t bite my tongue any longer.  _ We’re _ killing him. Keeping him locked up down there. This cold turkey thing isn’t working. If–if he doesn’t get what he needs, soon...Sam’s not gonna last much longer.” Tara felt herself getting farther and farther away from the room her body was in. This couldn’t be happening. Not this, not all over again. She tried to speak up, to agree with Bobby, but her body was frozen.

“No.” Dean disagreed, “I’m not giving him demon blood, I won’t do it.”

“And if he dies?”

“Then at least he dies human!” 

“No.” Tara finally forced her mouth to work. The strangled word drew both Dean’s and Bobby’s attention, “No, no, no, no, no.” She was shaking her head vigorously, rocking back and forth on the sofa.

“Tara.” Dean crouched in front of her and grabbed her upper arms, “Tara look at me!” He shook her a bit, but that only made her protest more.

“Dean, back off. Give her space.” Bobby sat down next to her, “Tara? Tara, what language is this written in?” He grabbed a book off his desk and opened it to a random page, holding it in front of her. The simple task got her focusing on the world in front of her again instead of running in circles in her head.

“Um, that’s Italian.”

“Good.” Bobby closed the book and put it back.

“You can’t let Sam die.” The words rushed out before she could consider them, “You can’t, Dean.”

“You think I want to?” Dean was offended that Tara would even think that of him, “Tara, I would die for him in a second. But I won’t let him do this to himself. I can’t. I guess I found my line. I won’t let my brother turn into a monster.”

“But you can’t let him die.” She insisted again.

“If he drinks enough bitch juice, he won’t be Sam anymore. He’ll still be dead, Hershey.”

“I know, I just…” She felt herself start to sink back into her own head again, but Bobby pressed Frodo into her hands and the feeling of the plush teddy bear brought her out of it, “I can’t go through that again.”

For the rest of the day, Tara sat in vigil on the basement stairs. This time, neither Dean nor Bobby tried to get her to come upstairs or go outside. They brought her some food every few hours. Most of the time, she turned it down, but sometimes she managed a few bites of whatever it was. She kept Frodo with her on her lap and one of Sam’s flannels around her shoulders. It surrounded her with his scent and made the loneliness a little more bearable. 

She spent most of the day in her safe place: Middle Earth. She’d left the books at Bobby’s since there was plenty of other material for her to read while they were on the road but now, she was grateful to have them. 

Sam was quiet today, no longer yelling to be let out or screaming like he was being tortured. Whenever Bobby or Dean brought her food, they would peek in on Sam. They never spoke to him, and from what she heard he never spoke to them, but they always reported that he was still breathing. Right now, that was the most important thing.

When it got to be around ten at night, Dean and Bobby each made an effort to get Tara upstairs to sleep in her bed, but she wouldn’t hear it. The last thing she wanted was to be so far from Sam that she couldn’t hear if he was having a problem. Like this morning. Instead of waiting for her to fall asleep and then carrying her up, Dean brought her her pillows and an additional blanket to make her a little more comfortable on the stairs.

Tara was grateful for his efforts, but she didn’t plan on sleeping. She turned on a couple small, battery-operated candles for light and kept reading long after Dean and Bobby passed out. But it had been a taxing day for her. And as much as she loved Treebeard’s song about the Ents and the Entwives, the blanket and Sam’s flannel created a warm cocoon while the pillows gave her a soft surface to lean on. 

Before she realized it, Tara’s eyes had drifted closed; the electric candles still lit, and her book open in front of her.

\------

Sam was in agony. He could barely move any of his stiff limbs and in addition to the sweats and the chills, his left ear had been itching for at least the past hour. That was another issue–he had no way of telling how much time he’d been tied down aside from the amount of light coming in front outside. The sun seemed to have set a week ago, leaving the room eerily lit by a combination of the moonlight and the red light above the door. 

But then something happened.

The handcuff around his left wrist snapped open. Then the one on his left ankle, followed by his right ankle and wrist. Sam lifted his wrists out of the cuffs, lest they suddenly reengage. What the hell was going on?

He jumped at the creaking sound to his left, and watched with growing apprehension as the panic room door opened seemingly on its own. There was certainly no one on the other side waiting for him. Sam sat up slowly. Either this was some cruel test or something was very wrong.

“Hello?” He called, unsure, but no one answered him. Sam got up off the uncomfortable twin bed and crept over to the door, pushing it open a little farther.

“Someone here?” He called again, but once more, there was no answer. When that happened, he stepped out of the panic room. He was free! His heart was pumping almost painfully fast as he made for the stairs, trying to be as quiet as possible. 

As soon as he rounded the corner to go upstairs, his stomach leapt to his throat.

Tara was there, her sleeping form partially blocking his path. She was laying on several pillows and had a blanket around her legs. There was a flannel on her upper half, the collar falling across her nose and mouth. Sam immediately recognized the dark red and brown striped pattern as one of his. One of her hands was holding her teddy bear securely to her chest, and the other was holding a book open. There were several small, electric candles around the book, but only about half of them remained lit.

Sam had to smile a bit, until the twinge of guilt came along. She was here because of him, sleeping on the stairs instead of in her bedroom.  _ No _ , he reminded himself, she could easily have slept upstairs. She was here because she chose to be.

He crept up the stairs as quietly as possible so not to wake her, but he could resist pausing when his face became level with hers. Holding his breath, Sam pulled his flannel back from her face a bit. His hand was trembling, not from the lack of demon blood, as his thumb ghosted over her cheek. Her face was warm to the touch, probably because of the flannel, and silky soft under his own callused skin. Before he could second-guess himself, Sam leaned in and pressed his lips to where his thumb had just been. He could smell the fruity conditioner she used, and inhaled deeply in an attempt to memorize the scent.

“I’ll come back soon.” He whispered, “I promise. I just need to do this.” With that, he adjusted the flannel so it was over her face again and finished going upstairs.

\------

“Tara!” Someone was shaking her, “Tara!” She bolted upright, nearly smashing her forehead right into Dean’s nose.

“Son of a bitch!” He exclaimed as he dodged.

“What? What’s wrong?” She asked when she saw his face.

“It’s Sam. He–he got out last night.”

“What?!” She twisted to look at the panic room door. Sure enough, Bobby was standing in the doorway, holding an ice pack on his forehead, “How is that even possible?”

“I don’t know.” Dean shook his head, “Did you wake up at all last night?”

“I don’t…” Her hand left her book, coming up to her cheek, “I don’t know.” Vaguely she remembered feeling warm pressure there, hearing Sam’s voice, but she’d thought it was just a dream.

“Alright, come on. Let’s take a look, see if we can figure out how he busted out.” Dean pulled Tara up and she stretched. Her back was sore again today, but not as bad as she’d expected. The pillows had really helped.

She followed Dean over to the panic room.

“What happened?” Tara gestured to the ice pack.

“Sam clocked me with my own gun.” Bobby grumbled, “Knocked me out cold.” Tara felt her jaw drop a bit. Never would she had believed that Sam would do such a thing!

“How the hell did he get out?” Dean was surveying the room.

“Maybe he had help.” Bobby poked at the broken devil’s trap on the floor, “Room full of busted devil’s traps.” Tara checked the one outside the door.

“This one’s broken too.”

“Demons?  _ Ruby _ .” An ugly surge of jealousy coursed through Tara.

“That’d be my guess.” Boby shrugged.

“That  _ bitch _ .”

“But how’d she even touch the door?”

“You think she’s got the mojo?”

“I didn’t think so.” Dean bent down to examine one of the devil’s traps, “But I don’t know, man.”

“Well what difference does it make? How he got gone ain’t as important as where he got gone to.”

“Yeah, well I’ll tell you one thing. At this point, I  _ hope _ he’s with Ruby.”

“Excuse me?” Tara put her hands on her hips, “Why?”

“Cause killing her’s the next big item on my to-do list.”

“Amen to that.” Tara followed Dean towards the stairs.

“I thought you were on call for angel duty.”

“I am on call–in my car, on my way to murder the bitch.” Dean retorted.

“Wait, what do you mean ‘on call’?” 

“I’ll tell you on the way.” Dean grumbled.

“One thing.” 

“What?”

“Sam don’t wanna be found. Which means he’s gonna be damn near impossible to find.”

“Yeah, we’ll see.” Dean accepted Bobby’s challenge and went upstairs.

“Dean!” Tara called after him, “What did he mean by angel duty?”

“So you gave the angels the ok to stick their hands up your ass and play muppets?” Tara asked for what felt like the billionth time.

“Don’t–don’t say it like that!” Dean looked up from the work he was doing under Baby’s hood. Tara had offered to help and been politely turned down.

“Then how would you like me to put it? It doesn’t matter, the result’s the same.”

“Damnit, Tara, I was trying to fix this!”

“Fix what?!”

“Everything! The Apocalypse, Sam, the whole nine. I thought if I just gave them what they wanted he’d be ok!”

“So what, you get all chummy with the ones who act like shady used car salesmen?”

“Better that than shack up with a demon.” Tara found a pebble on the ground to glare at and Dean continued the maintenance in silence.

“Police found my car.” Bobby joined them a couple minutes later, Abandoned in an alley in Jamestown, North Dakota.”

“Well, he’s switching up.” Dean straightened up, “Any other cars stolen in Jamestown?”

“Two.” Bobby answered, “1999 Honda Civic, blue–nice and anonymous like Sam likes.”

“What was the other one?” Bobby chuckled.

“White ‘05 Escalade with custom rims. It’s a neon sign.”

“Yeah, you’re right, he’d never take that. Which is exactly what he did.”

“You think?”

“I know that kid.” Dean tossed his rag down and packed up his tools, “We’ll head in that direction, you stay here, ride the police databases.” He closed the hood, “We gotta find him quick.”

“I’m ready to go.” Tara gestured at the go-bag she’d grabbed from the house which was already in the backseat.

“Hey, Tara? Stay safe.” She gave Bobby a look. He didn’t often say that to her, normally it was just implied.

“Yeah, you know it.” At first, she reached for the rear door, but then remembered that there was no one else to ride shotgun. She slid into the car next to Dean, who started the engine. 

“There we go, Baby.” He grinned at the smooth purr, “Let’s go get Sam.”

\------

They drove in silence, only stopping when absolutely necessary and eating fast food on the road. Right before they made it to Jamestown, North Dakota, Bobby called with an update. Tara answered Dean’s phone for him and put him on speaker.

“What’s the word?” Dean didn’t take his eyes off the road.

“The cops found the escalade in a ditch outside Elk River.”

“How far away are we?”

“Couple hours. I pulled up a weather map, made some calls. There’s a town not far from there–Coldspring–lighting up with demon signs.”

“That’s a good place to look.”

“Hey, listen.” Bobby said before Tara could hang up.

“What?” She asked.

“Us finding Sam? It’s gotta be about getting him back, not pushing him away.”

“Right.” Dean replied, in a slightly softer tone.

“I know you’re mad, Dean. I understand, you got a right to be. But, I’m just saying, be good to him anyway. You two gotta get through to him.”

“Don’t worry Bobby. I’ll make sure of that.” Tara narrowed her eyes a bit at Dean as she said it and hung up.

“Hey, we still got a couple hours why don’t you catch some zzz’s.” Dean suggested, but she shook her head.

“I’m good.” In truth, she was too nervous to sleep. What would happen when they found Sam? Would he be with Ruby? Would he even want to see them?

The more she thought about it, the more she was convinced that she  _ had _ woken up when Sam left. She could still feel his lips pressing against her cheek. Still hear his voice in her ear, his whispered promise to return.

She wanted to believe it, but how he’d acted the last time Ruby was around nagged at her. The way he’d just kicked her out of the motel room so he could fuck her, and his snappy attitue afterwards. Of course, now Tara knew the latter came from the demon blood, but by now he’d undoubtedly had some. The true source of her dread wasn’t coming from the idea of having to start his detox all over again. No.

The worst part was wondering if, when they found him, would he treat her just as poorly as before, even after so much had changed between them?


	30. Lucifer Rising

Once they reached Coldspring, Dean found the ritziest joint in town and parked down the block. 

“Alright. It’s still opposite day in Sam-land, which means he’s here. Probably in one of the nicer suites. Come on.” Tara followed Dean around the back of the hotel, where he proceeded to break into the employee entrance.

They took the stairs up to the top floor, where only one suite–according to the computer Tara had hacked quickly–was currently occupied. The honeymoon suite. Just seeing that  _ that _ was the suite Sam had picked made Tara’s apprehension so much worse, but she kept her concerns to herself.

Silently, she and Dean crept towards the door to the honeymoon suite. Right as they peered around the corner, the door opened. Tara bit her tongue hard to suppress a gasp as she and Dean watched a shadow that could only belong to Sam walk off in the other direction. Once he’d been gone for a few moments, they approached the door.

Dean picked the lock and the well-oiled hinges were silent as the door swung open. Tara’s eyes were immediately drawn to the only person in the room. She was standing with her back to the door, shoving clothes into a duffel bag on the bed. The bed that had very clearly been used.

She and Dean crept up behind Ruby, but right before Dean could stab her in the back, the demon whirled around and raised an arm and the blade cut through the sleeve of her leather jacket instead of her face. They ended up in a stalemate, with Dean having pinned her against the trellis pushing the knife towards her and Ruby holding him back with all her strength. Tara was itching to get involved, but didn’t want to aid Ruby by mistake. They struggled for a few moments, and finally Dean twisted Ruby’s arms out of the way. But before he could run her through, Sam appeared out of nowhere from behind Tara and grabbed Dean’s arm.

“No! Let her go!” He shoved Dean down onto the bed and put himself between Tara and Ruby before Tara could throw herself at the brunette, “Just take it easy.” He tried to placate her.

“Wow, it musta been some party you two had going.” Dean said as he stood up, “Considering how hard you tried to keep us from crashing it. Well, solid try, but...here we are.”

“What the hell, Sam? I thought you were done throwing me aside for her.” Tara spat.

“Guys, I’m glad you’re here. Look, let’s just talk about this.”

“As soon as she’s dead we can talk all you want.” 

“Ditto.” Tara glared at Ruby, who just sneered back.

“Jealous, much?” Tara held a hand out towards Dean.

“Give me the knife.”

“No.” Sam put a hand on her shoulder, trying to coax her into lowering her arm, “Ruby, get out of here.” 

“She’s not going anywhere.” Dean tried to rush her, but Sam readjusted his angle. Tara’s jaw dropped as she watched Ruby flee, but not without one last triumphant look over her shoulder.

“I’ll get her.”

“Tara, don’t.” Sam’s grip on her arm tightened.

“Let me go!” She yanked free, but it was too late. Ruby was gone.

“She’s poison, Sam!” Dean shouted.

“It’s not what you think, Dean.”

“Really? Cause it looks like she gave you a hit of blood and you screwed her over in the fun way.” Tara gestured at the unmade bed.

“Exactly!” Dean exclaimed, “Look what she did to you! She’d the one who got you hooked in the first place! Then she up and vanishes weeks at a time, leaves you cracking out for another hit!”

“She was looking for Lilith!” Sam protested. But Tara couldn’t help but notice that he didn’t try to deny her second accusation.

“That is French for manipulating your ass ten ways from Sunday.”

“You’re  _ wrong _ , Dean.”

“Sam, you’re lying to yourself.” 

“Those excuses you just gave us. How much of that came directly from her mouth? She’s abusive and manipulative and you’ve done nothing but defend her!”

“That’s not true, Tara, she–”

“No, Sam. Whatever you’re about to say, no. No more excuses. Just come back to Bobby’s with us, we’ll figure this out.” 

“We just want you to be ok. You would do the same for either of us. You  _ know _ you would.”

“Just listen.” When Sam didn’t respond directly, Tara knew this was pointless. So when he tossed the knife onto the bed, her eyes went straight to it, “Just listen for a second. We got a lead on a demon close to Lilith. Come with us, Dean, Tara. We’ll do this together.”

“Sure.” Tara agreed, “I just have one condition.” Before Sam could stop her, Tara darted forward and snatched up the knife.

“Tara, no!” Sam tried to grab her, but Dean held him back. Sam continued to shout after her but Tara just bolted out the door.

She ran straight to the stairs and started down. Ruby wasn’t in the hall that she saw, and this was the fastest way of getting outside. Her feet barely made contact with one stair before they were moving to the next one and she kept a hand on the railing to help her make the turns without losing speed. Adrenaline surged through her system as she sprinted through the back halls and burst out into the night air.

As soon as her eyes adjusted to the lower light, she saw Ruby. The demon was leaning casually against a dark-colored sedan not ten feet away. Their eyes locked instantly and Ruby rolled her eyes.

“Seriously? You just don’t know when someone’s not that into you, do you?”

“Bitch.” Tara tightened her grip on the knife, “You used him. You poisoned him against us. You–”

“And now you sound like Anakin Skywalker.” Ruby mocked her. That was the last straw for Tara. She sprang forward, slashing wildly at Ruby. The demon dodged to the side and promptly slammed Tara into the side of the car. She felt liquid gush from her nose and stars lingered in her vision as she spun, slicing at air. Ruby laughed, bent her forward, and brought her knee up to Tara’s ribcage before shoving her to the ground. The cracked sidewalk cut into her hands, but she kept her grip on the knife. 

Tara took another swing at her, this time catching Ruby off-guard. The blade cut through her boots and jeans, drawing blood. Ruby cried out more from indignation than pain and Tara used the moment of distraction to stumble to her feet. Her knees were shaking, her head was spinning, and her ribcage was protesting its existence, but she refused to collapse.

“You’re gonna pay for what you did to him.” She heaved.

“I doubt that.” Tara huffed and spat, spewing blood in Ruby’s face. Once more, she tried to stab her, but Ruby was ready. The demon delivered a solid punch to the side of her face and shoved Tara back into the wall of the hotel. When she hit the bricks, all the air left Tara’s lungs and she was left no other option but to fall on her ass, this time dropping the knife.

“And you know what the worst part is?” Ruby picked the knife up off the ground and ran the tip down Tara’s cheek. Not enough to cut, but enough for her to feel the blade’s edge, “Is he really liked you. I mean, I didn’t even get my usual take from him this time. He was serious about you.” She grinned wickedly, “Seems only fitting that you should meet the same fate as all his other playthings.” She pressed the jagged side of the blade against Tara’s throat, and all she could do was sit there and try to kill Ruby by glaring at her. She didn’t have her gun on her–they’d figured the knife would be enough–and she’d neglected to grab herself a plain iron blade. Now she was going to pay the price.

“Ruby!” Sam’s voice rang out. He ran up to where Ruby had his girlfriend pinned against the building. The demon’s expression fell a bit when she saw him coming.

“Sam.” She greeted him like nothing was wrong.

“Let her go.” He said, just as calm as he’d been upstairs.

“But–”

“Now.” He ordered. Ruby pouted and pressed the knife into Tara’s throat hard enough to make her whimper. After relishing the pathetic little noise, Ruby dropped the knife and stood up.

“You ready to go?”

“I’ll be a minute.”

“Sam–”

“I said give me a damn minute, Ruby.” She rolled her eyes, indignant, but went and got in the car anyway. Meanwhile, Sam knelt next to Tara and began wiping the blood off her face.

“Are you ok?”

“Do I look like I’m fucking ok?”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what? For leaving? For promising to come back and then going off to fuck that whore? Or for the fact that she almost just killed me?”

“I didn’t–I didn’t sleep with her. I meant it when I told you I was done with that. And she was pissed about it, but I don’t care. I wouldn’t do that to you.” He tried to place a hand on her uninjured cheek, but Tara batted him away.

“Don’t touch me.”

“Tara–”

“Don’t!” The force it took to raise her voice made her head throb, and Sam seemed to sense that.

“I’m sorry.” He said again, “But I have to do this. I have to kill Lilith. It’s the only way to stop the Apocalypse. The only way I can keep you safe.”

“Yeah, well, you’re doing a pretty bang-up job at that.”

“You can come with us. You can help.” 

“Not with the demon bitch.” Sam sighed. That was the answer he’d been expecting, but he had to offer.

“Alright. I’ll see you when it’s over then. I promise.” It hurt him to say it, but he needed her to believe that right now. He ghosted her cheek with his hand, respecting her wishes and not actually touching her. That’s when Tara noticed that his bottom lip was split. It hadn’t been before.

“Where’s Dean?” Those words drove a stake deep into Sam’s chest. He pulled away.

“Upstairs.”

“Is he…?”

“What?” Tara raised an eyebrow, “Dead? No! He’s my brother, I would never–” He cut himself off. Everything Ruby said was true. Why she’d turned against him, made sure he’d stayed locked up. Because she’d realized she as with the wrong Winchester. 

“See you, Tara.” He stood up and got into the sedan with Ruby without so much as looking back once. Because he knew that if he did, he was going to lose it.

Tara watched, tears joining the remaining blood on her face, as Sam drove off.

That’s where Dean found her, about ten minutes later. Slumped against the wall, dry tear trails cutting through the blood on her face. The knife was on the ground next to her.

“Tara.” He crouched in front of her, “What happened?”

“Ruby.” She muttered, “Bitch.”

“Yes she is. Now c’mere.” He picked her up carefully and carried her back to the Impala. 

“Are we going after them?” Tara asked as Dean laid her down in the backseat. He shook his head.

“No. I told Sam that if he left to never come back and he walked right out. We’re going back to Bobby’s.” Dean’s voice left no room for argument, and Tara wasn’t exactly any condition to try and go it alone. So she just tried to get as comfortable as she could in the backseat while Dean fired up the engine and turned the Impala back south.

\------

As soon as they got back to Bobby’s, Tara was laid down on the sofa with an ice pack and some Advil. Bobby had confirmed that she didn’t have another concussion, thankfully, but had prescribed that she take it easy nonetheless.

Dean hadn’t said a word to Tara about what happened in that hotel room after she’d gone after Ruby. And even now, he wouldn’t tell Bobby. So Tara told the older hunter as much as she had been able to put together on her own. To say he wasn’t pleased with how Dean had acted was an understatement.

“Call Sam, now.” He directed his command at Dean, “Apologise to him. We agreed that this would be about getting him  _ back _ .” But Dean didn’t answer. In fact, he didn’t even turn away from the window he was gazing out of.

“Dean? Dean.” Bobby repeated himself, “You listen to a word I said?”

“Yeah, I heard you.” Dean muttered, “I’m not calling him.”

“Don’t make me get my gun, boy.”

“We are damn near kickoff for Armageddon.” Dean finally turned around, “Don’t you think we got bigger fish at the moment?”

“I know you’re pissed, and so’s Tara. You two got every right to be. And I’m not making apologies for what he’s done, but he’s your–”

“Blood? He’s my blood, is that what you’re gonna say?”

“He’s your brother, and he’s drowning.”

“Bobby, I tried to help him, I did.” Dean protested, “Look what happened.” He gestured to Tara.

“This isn’t Sam’s fault.” Tara said, “It’s Ruby’s.”

“Precisely. So try again.”

“It’s too late.”

“There’s no such thing.” Bobby counted.

“It’s not like he’s dead.” Tara said, too quietly for either of them to hear her.

“No, damn it!” Dean looked like he was going to go into a shouting rant, but he stopped himself, “No. We gotta face the facts: Sam never wanted part of this family. He hated this life growing up, ran away to Stanford first chance he got and now it’s like déjà vu all over again. Well I am sick and tired of chasing him.” He sat down on the arm of the sofa by Tara’s feet, “Screw him, he can do what he wants.” Tara’s jaw dropped.

“You don’t mean that.”

“Yes I do, Bobby. Sam’s gone. He’s gone. I’m not even sure if he’s still my brother anymore. If he ever was.” Tara delivered a solid kick to Dean’s hip, effectively pushing him off the sofa.

“Fuck off, Dean. You’re acting like a bratty teenager!” She yelled at him, “This is not how you behaved in the books. You never gave up on him, not once. Not when Meg possessed him, and not when he himself asked you to kill him! You sold your soul for him, Dean! And now you’re just giving up on him!? You can’t do that!”

“Those books are bullshit. Watch me.” Before Tara could shout back, Bobby violently swept everything off his desk.

“You stupid, stupid son of a bitch! Well boo-hoo, I am so sorry your feelings are hurt,  _ princess _ ! Are you under the impression that family’s supposed to make you feel good? Bake you an apple pie, maybe? They’re  _ supposed _ to make you miserable, that’s why they’re family!”

“I told him ‘you walk out that door, don’t come back’ and he walked out anyway. That was his choice!”

“Tara’s right. You sound like a whiny brat.” Dean scoffed at Bobby and stormed back to the window. Bobby took that as permission on continue, “No. You sound like your  _ dad _ . Well let me tell you something. Your dad was a coward.” Dean turned back to Bobby, a dangerous look in his eye.

“My dad was a lot of things, Bobby, but a coward?”

“He’d rather push Sam away than reach out to him. Well, that don’t strike me as brave. You are a better man than your daddy ever was.” Dean scoffed again, “So do us both a favor. Don’t be him.” Tara watched as Dean turned back to the window. She wasn’t sure if he was going to go off on Bobby again for insulting his dad or rise to the challenge, take out his phone and call Sam.

As it happened, he did neither. One second, Dean was standing right in front of her, staring out the window. The next, he was gone. Vanished into thin air. Tara sat completely upright, her eyes darting around the room, but Dean was nowhere to be found. Bobby looked equally shocked.

“What the fuck just happened?” At first, Bobby shook his head, about to say he didn’t know. But then he remembered.

“My guess? Angel duty.” Tara let herself fall back into the pillow she’d been leaning on.

“So what now?” Bobby gave her a look that told her that was a stupid question.

“Call Sam.”

Once her headache was reduced to a dull throbbing and it didn’t hurt to breathe, Tara went up to her room for some privacy. She shut the door and flipped open her phone, her finger lingering over Sam’s contact. Would he even answer? Or had he blocked her? What if Ruby answered instead?

“Damn it.” Before she could overthink it any more, she hit call and put the phone up to her ear. Her heart was thudding in her chest as the phone began to ring. Once, twice, three times. Every time, she jumped a bit, holding her breath, waiting for Sam–or Ruby–to be on the other end. But ultimately, no one picked up.

“It’s Sam. Leave me a message.” There was a high-pitched ping, and only once she heard silence did Tara realized she had no idea what to say.

“Sam, please call me when you get this. I’m sorry about what Dean said to you, but I’m not sorry that I went after Ruby. She’s poison, Sam. You have to see that, you–” She stopped before she could say anything too bad about Ruby. Bobby was right, this had to be about coaxing Sam back, “Please call me. We can figure something out. I’m sorry I assumed you slept with her, but I was hurting, Sam. And I can’t pretend I wasn’t. But this isn’t about us. This is about saving the world. And we need your help, Sam. We need you here. I–” She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to will the tears and her renewed headache away, “Please just call me back.” She hit the little red button on the right, ending the call and let herself fall back into her pillows.

“I need a drink.” She decided.

\------

A few hours later, that evening, Bobby knocked on her door.

“Hey, Tara?” She sat up, a little groggy. She hadn’t been sleeping, but she’d let herself check out of reality for a bit. But she hadn’t been able to forget that Sam hadn’t called her back.

“I heated up some of that pot roast from the other night. You should eat something.” Tara sat up and rubbed her eyes. Now that she thought about it, her stomach  _ would _ probably appreciate something in it. With a little groan, Tara hauled herself to her feet and opened the door.

“How are you feeling?” Bobby asked her. Tara just shook her head. He was asking if she felt any better, and that wasn’t something he wanted the honest answer to.

“Ok. Well why don’t you splash some water on your face and come downstairs. I’ll keep your food warm.” Tara nodded and tried her best to give Bobby a smile, but couldn’t get the corners of her mouth to turn upward. 

She retrieved her phone from the bed and opened it on the off-chance that Sam had called and she hadn’t heard. He hadn’t. Out of habit, she checked her old phone. She used to do it every day but had left it here when she’d rejoined the Winchesters, and for the most part, she hadn’t missed having it. To her surprise, there was a voicemail from yesterday.

From her mother. 

Tara’s knees gave out and she collapsed back on her bed. Just when she’d gotten used to the idea of no one from her old life reaching out to her, this happens. Right as her world here was crashing down around her. She chewed on her already-raw bottom lip. There was no debate. She had to listen to it. Tara opened the message and held the phone up to her ear.

“Tara, honey, please call me back. Your father and I still love you and I’m sorry if we ever made you feel otherwise. I hope school is going well. We called your school, but they wouldn’t tell us anything because I guess you have to grant permission for that. We miss you, sweetie.” Tara squeezed her eyes shut and sobbed into her hands. She wanted to call her mom back, to tell her everything that had been going on. About Sam. About the seals. But she couldn’t. This was the first rule of hunting. You have to leave everyone else behind. 

So Tara deleted the message and, after splashing some water on her face, went down to join Bobby for dinner.

\------

They ate in relative silence until Tara finally found the will to speak.

“What do we do now?”

“Well,” Bobby put his fork down, “I’ve been putting in some research, trying to find out what the final seal is. I’m down to the really ancient texts now, damn near impossible to read. I could use your help, if you’re feeling up to it.” Tara stabbed a chunk of potato and popped it in her mouth, savoring the sauce it was drenched in. When she finished it, she put her fork down as well.

“Alright. Let’s see this text.”

Five hours later, Tara had managed to translate perhaps a third of a page of the script Bobby had put in front of her. The text was not only faded by time, but weathered by the elements. Some glyphs had been turned into incomprehensible smudges, but she made due. Bobby wasn’t doing much better. Sam still hadn’t called back, and periodically, one of them would call Dean, but it always went straight to voicemail. Wherever the angels were keeping him, there wasn’t any cell reception it seemed.

Finally, Tara sat back to read all of what she’d translated so far, hoping it would make sense.

“Oh  _ shit _ .” She murmured.

“What?” Bobby was paying attention immediately.

“We’ve been played. Well, Sam has.”

“What makes you say that? Aside from the obvious.”

“This right here.” Tara pointed at the last sentence of what she’d just deciphered, “The first demon shall be the last seal. Only with the death of Lilith can the Lightbringer be released from his eternal cage.”

“Wait, so you think that–”

“Ruby’s been playing us this whole time? Yeah, I do. She was way too smug back at that hotel. The question is what now? Sam still hasn’t returned my call and the last thing we want is to tip Ruby off that we know!” The fluttering of wings cut off the panicked rant Tara was about to go on.

“Dean!” Bobby exclaimed. Tara looked up from the text in front of her and was equally taken aback by the sight of Dean and Castiel in the middle of the room.

“Hershey, I hope you’re feeling better cause we gotta stop Sam. Lilith–”

“–is the final seal.” Tara said in sync with him, already getting up.

“I’ll get my gear.” Bobby said.

“No, Bobby. You stay here. The three of us are gonna pay a visit to Chuck, find out where Sam’s at but we might still need your help with something here.” Bobby made a face that told them he didn’t like being benched, but this wasn’t the time to argue. Tara went to stand on the other side of Castiel, and before she could respond to Bobby’s regular ‘be safe’, the angel placed a hand on her shoulder and she heard the flapping of wings. 

The world warped around her, and suddenly they were in a different place. She immediately recognized the tornado zone that was Chuck’s house. 

They were standing in his kitchen, the only light coming from Chuck’s computer and table lamp. The writer himself was on the phone, walking away from them.

“Ok, I’ll take, um 20 girls for the whole night.” Tara’s eyebrows shot up. The end of the world certainly tended to shuffle priorities, but that sounded like a little much. She didn’t hear the response from the person on the other end, but Chuck wasn’t happy with it.

“Lady, sometimes you gotta live like there’s no tomorrow.” He turned around and saw them, “Wait, this isn’t supposed to happen.” He muttered, the lifted his phone back to his ear, “No, lady this is definitely supposed to happen but I just gotta call you back.” He hung up the phone. Tara glanced over at Dean and Cas. From the look on the angel’s face, he had no idea how to act, so Dean spoke first.

“We need to know where Sam is. Now.”

“Um, yeah, ok.” Chuck handed Dean a page off his desk, and he read it.

“Saint Mary’s? What is that, a convent?”

“Yeah, but you guys aren’t supposed to be there. You’re not in this story.”

“Oh, screw that.” Tara rolled her eyes.

“We’re making it up as we go.” Castiel managed to have a hint of confidence in his voice. But as soon as he finished speaking, a blinding light came in through the window. A horrible, high-pitched ringing filled the air and everything in the room started to tremble.

“Aw, man! Not again!” Chuck cried at cabinet doors opened and dishes went crashing to the floor.

“It’s the archangel!” Castiel shouted, “I’ll hold him off, I’ll hold them all off! Just stop Sam!” He placed one hand on Dean’s forehead and the other on Tara’s. Tara’s stomach rolled again and her vision went dark. It took a moment to figure out that it wasn’t because she’d been struck blind; she and Dean had just been transported to a very dark location.

Tara blinked rapidly, trying to make her eyes adjust to the low light. Not soon enough, the spots in her vision vanished and shapes formed. She and Dean were in a hallway of stone. There was an arched doorway to her left, Dean’s right, and windows lined both sides of the hall. Moonlight streamed in through the ones on Dean’s side. 

The building they were in was in poor repair. It smelled musty and cold, with moss growing on the walls and plants creeping up between the cracks in the stones. Bodies were strewn on the floor on both sides of the hall. Tara took them in as fast as she could, uncomfortable with how comfortable she’d become with seeing dead bodies. There seemed to be no one around on either side of them, but there were faint voices coming from her right.

“Come on.” Dean hissed, and they started running.

When they rounded the corner, Tara’s heart dropped like a lead weight at what she saw. More bodies lined either side of the hall, and at the end of it, through another arched doorway, was a chapel. The first figure her eyes fell on was Sam; unmistakable in his height and from his stance, it was clear he was high on demon blood. Right beside him, comically short, was Ruby, and farther into the room, almost totally obscured by Sam’s large form, was Lilith. Once again wearing the dental hygienist from Bloomington, Indiana, Lilith was on the floor seemingly pinned against the white stone altar.

But before either of them could shout out to Sam, who was advancing on Lilith, Ruby looked over her shoulder. Her eyes locked with Tara’s instantly and she gave them a smirk.

“Sam!” Tara yelled, and they both broke into a sprint, but Ruby’s smirk only grew that much wider. She stretched out an arm while Sam’s back was still turned, and the pair of heavy wood doors slammed shut. Tara only ran faster, matching Dean’s pace.

When they reached the door, Tara and Dean let themselves run almost full-tilt into it, but the dark wood didn’t so much as tremble upon impact. Instead, it made pain flare up in Tara’s wrists, shoulders, and ribs from the hard hit.

“Sam!” Dean was pounding on the door with both fists, “Sam!” But still the door didn’t open.

“Sam!” Tara joined in the yelling.

“Sammy!”

\------

Inside the chapel, Sam’s hand slowly fell back to his side. He thought he’d heard his brother and his girlfriend calling out to him over the blood rushing in his ears. He turned, but all that was behind him were the closed doors of the chapel.

“Sam!”

“Sammy!” Their voices were coming from the other side.

“Dean? Tara?”

“What are you waiting for?!” He dimly registered Ruby shouting at him, “Kill her!”

“Sam!” Tara sounded truly desperate and scared. Something wasn’t right. But then he heard Lilith laughing, and his train of thought was lost in the rage he felt against the demon.

\------

Tara’s could feel her heartbeat in her fists, his skin warm from pounding against the door. 

“Sam!”

“Damn it!” Dean stopped pounding, “Demon bitch has gotta be holding it shut with her mojo.”

“Dean, give me the knife.” The elder Winchester handed over the weapon almost automatically as he grabbed a candleholder. After knocking the candles free, he started pounding on the door with the square, metal base. Tara stowed the knife and grabbed another one, blowing out the candle just in case and got a sense for the weight of it in her hands. Then, she and Dean took turns wailing on the door. But even as her biceps started to burn with the effort, the door didn’t show any signs of budging.

“Dean, back up.” Tara got a new idea and drew her gun.

“Tara, wait!” She fired it anyway. The bullet flew through the locking mechanism, and with one final blow from Dean, both doors swung inward.

But they were too late.

Tara saw that right away, by Lilith’s lip body slumped in front of the altar, and the blood on the floor, oozing and snaking unnaturally into a pattern. Sam and Ruby were on the ground to the right of the altar. The demon was holding Sam’s face in her hands, but by his expression, Sam wanted nothing to do with her. 

The moment the doors opened, Ruby turned and stood up. Tara drew the knife.

“You’re too late.” Ruby goaded her.

“I don’t care.” Tara growled. In an instant, Sam was on his feet, holding Ruby against him by her upper arms. Tara didn’t hesitate to stab her through the heart with the knife. Ruby gave a strangled cry, and orange light flashed under her skin.

Dean’s hand joined Tara’s on the hilt of the knife and he twisted it ninety degrees, making Ruby give another strangled gasp.

Tara glared into Ruby’s dark eyes, for once feeling no remorse about taking a life, and watched in almost glee as she gasped and blubbered before finally going limp. Tara yanked the blade free and Sam dropped Ruby. Her body hit the marble floor with a sickening thud and for a moment, the three of them just stood there, breathing hard. Then Sam looked at them

“I’m sorry.” Were the first words out of his mouth. Tara scanned his stance quickly. His shoulders weren’t thrust back anymore, now they were turned forward in a tired slouch. It seemed killing Lillith had also killed the blood-high. The apology was completely genuine. Behind her, Dean didn’t respond, and Tara couldn’t see his face, but she was ready to throw her arms around him.

She never got the change. A pillar of white light sprang up from the blood on the floor, the pattern contorting as the pillar grew larger and larger. Tara swallowed hard. Sam had killed Lilith, so that meant that Lucifer was finally free. And they were going to be the first living things he saw after who-knows-how-long in solitary confinement. She reached up, not taking her eyes off the light, and grabbed a fistful of Sam and Dean’s jackets. Meanwhile, two hands grabbed her shoulders, and she felt them reach for each other behind her.

“Sammy, let’s go.” Dean sounded more scared than she’d ever heard before.

“Dean.” Sam sounded just as freaked, “He’s coming.” Tara was too terrified to say anything.

A year ago, she’d just been a normal college student who had recently buried her boyfriend. And now she had a front-row seat to the the rising of Lucifer.

Any joke about how her life had escalated quickly fled her mind when she realized that she probably had seconds left to live.


	31. Sympathy for the Devil

“Come on!”

In unison, the three of them dropped their grips on each other and rang for the doors–which had slammed shut once more. Sam and Dean each grabbed a handle, but it wouldn’t budge. That’s when Tara realized she’d dropped something back when she’d grabbed their jackets.

“The knife!”

“Tara, no!” But it was too late. She ran back to where they’d been standing and snatched the blood-covered weapon off the floor. In her haste to turn around and get back to the door, Tara slipped on the smooth floor and fell.

“Tara!” Sam was by her side in an instant, half-carrying, half-dragging her back to the door where Dean was pounding on it with both fists. An intense ringing filled the air, much more powerful than at Chuck’s house. Tara felt like her brain was going to liquefy and come out her ears as she looked back at the circle. The pillar of light filled the whole diameter now, the brightness completely overwhelming all her senses. In the last seconds of sight she had left, Tara looked at Sam, her hands clamped over her ears. Finally, the white overtook her vision completely.

_ “This is it.”  _ She thought,  _ “This is where I die.” _ All she heard now was the ringing in her ears. 

\------

“What the devil is your name?” The words were only hinted at over the ringing. Tara wasn’t sure if she’d imagined it. Her vision went dark suddenly, and Tara opened her eyes, blinking rapidly. Just like when Castiel had transported them from Chuck’s house, spots swam in her vision until her eyes adjusted to the lower light. She could feel Sam and Dean on either side of her, wincing just like she was.

“What the hell?” Dean muttered.

“I don’t know.” Sam replied, looking around. The three of them were seated in a row, and there was another row of seats right in front of them. The air smelled funny too. 

“Um, guys? Are–are we on a plane?”

“Yeah.” Sam said it like he was saying ‘duh’, but then something occurred to him “Wait, have you never been on a plane before?”

“No.” She shook her head, looking around as best she could. She tried to stand up to get a better look, but a seatbelt was fastened low and tight across her lap.

“Folks, quick word from the flight deck.” A man’s voice came over the PA, “We’re just passing over Illcester, then Ellicott city on our initial descent into Baltimore.”

“Ilchester?” Dean looked away from the dark window, “Weren’t we just there?” Tara nodded quickly.

“Yeah.”

“So if you’d like to stretch your legs, now would be a good time to–holy crap!” Suddenly, a massive bright light came from outside and the plane went into a massive tilt. Tara screamed, grabbing onto Sam as gravity pushed her into him. Now she was very grateful for that seatbelt. 

The plane went into a full nosedive and the light seemed to penetrate the plane’s hull. Something clear and yellow fell in front of her face, but Tara was too panicked and struggling too hard to breathe to try and figure out what it was. She saw Sam grab the thing in front of her, and before she could protest, he forced the yellow part over her nose and mouth and held it there. Looking at him, he was holding a mask on too. 

Tara reflexively grabbed the mask over her face with one hand and braced herself on the seat in front of her with the other. Sam quickly did the same once her grip on her mask was firm. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to puke. 

If they survived this, she would never go on a roller coaster again.

By some miracle, the pilot managed to regain control of the plane’s descent and brought it down safely in Baltimore. As soon as the gate opened, medics swarmed onto the plane with oxygen tanks for those who needed them most. As soon as Dean felt like he wasn’t about to have a heart attack, he stood up.

“Come on, we need to move.” He nudged Tara, who was staring in shock at the blue patterned seat in front of her, one hand still gripping it tightly and the other holding the mask over her face.

“Tara.” Sam was more gentle about it. He placed a hand on her forearm, inching it up towards her hand, “Hey. Look at me, baby. You’re ok.” Slowly, he eased the mask away from her face. Her glazed eyes suddenly snapped to him, her breaths coming in short pants.

“Easy there.” He slipped his other hand into the one still grasping the seat in front of her, lacing their fingers together, “We’re safe. But Dean’s right, we need to move. As soon as they start checking passenger manifests, they’ll figure out we aren’t supposed to be here.” He explained. Tara nodded, still unable to speak.

“Can you stand?” Sam undid the her seatbelt and got up slowly, pulling Tara with him. Her legs were shaking badly, but Sam let her take her time no matter how much Dean glared at him and motioned to hurry. Tara mumbled something under her breath.

“What was that?” He asked her.

“I’m not a baby.” She whispered quietly. Sam let himself feel a twinge of relief. 

“No you’re not, babe.”

They got out of the airport without being stopped by anyone, and Dean rented a black sedan from the first rental company they found using one of his many fake IDs. Soon, they were back on the road. Sam turned the radio on, and every single station was spouting speculation about what that massive blast of white light was. From a terrorist attack to a weapons range test by North Korea, the guesses were all over the board. Tara found herself wishing that it  _ was _ one of those things, rather than the devil himself rising to walk the Earth.

She was in the backseat with Sam’s jacket wrapped around her like a shock blanket. She’d lost count of how many times she’d thought she was going to die in the past two hours and somehow, she was still breathing. 

Sam flipped the radio off and Tara examined the back of his head. Aside from him calling her ‘babe’ on the plane and giving her his jacket, he hadn’t been behaving like he had before they locked him in the panic room. He hadn’t been acting like her boyfriend. Had her verbal and physical attacks on Ruby crossed a line? Did he want to break up? But the more sobering question was: did  _ she _ want to break up? He’d started the Apocalypse. Not only that, but he’d done exactly what he’d sworn not to when they got together! Well, maybe not exactly. According to Ruby, he hadn’t fucked her, but that was only a minimal comfort. Tara rubbed her eyes. 

She had bigger problems to worry about right now. From the way Sam was fidgeting, there was certainly  _ something _ on his mind and it probably had to do with the extreme tension between him and Dean. The silence in the car was deafening, and she was afraid the only way it would end was a massive explosion.

“Dean–”

“Don’t say anything. It’s ok. We just gotta keep our heads down, alright?” Given how angry Dean had been at his brother, that was the last response Tara had expected.

“Yeah, ok.”

“Right. Well, first thing’s first. How did we end up on  _ Soul Plane _ ?”

“Angels, maybe?” Sam speculated, “I mean, you know, beaming us out of harm’s way?” Tara’s mind was too fried to try and weigh in.

“Well, whatever. That’s the least of our worries. We need to find Cas.”

\------

Chuck’s place was a mess. Well, more so than usual. In the unflattering morning light, it looked like a tornado had gone through the kitchen raining blood everywhere. There was broken glass and paper drafts all over the floor. The table Chuck had been using as a desk had been flipped on its side. The computer itself was completely unsalvageable and the keyboard was missing a good third of its keys. There was no sign of Cas or Chuck anywhere. Sam, Dean, and Tara were standing at the edge of the mess trying to figure out what to do next when something creaked behind them. Sam led the way as they crept into the living room. Tara’s heart was in her throat, afraid that her life was about to be seriously threatened again. She followed a step behind Sam as he made his way along the wall, heading for the hall. Dean stuck to the other side of the room. Tara’s fingers were twitching, wishing she had her gun, but all her gear was back in the Impala at Bobby’s.

Just when she thought that maybe the creaking was just an old, battered house making noises, something hit Sam square in the face, making him cry out and stumble back.

“Geez! Ow!” Chuck was standing in the doorway holding a toilet plunger.

“Sam.”

“Yeah!”

“Hey, Chuck.”

“So...you’re ok.”

“Well, my head hurts.” Sam was still rubbing his forehead.

“No, I–I mean my last vision. You went, like, full-on Vader. Your body temperature was 150, your heart rate was 200, your eyes were black!”

“Your eyes went black?”

“Wait, you mean like a demon?” Chuck nodded in response to Tara’s question.

“I didn’t know.” Sam said softly. He didn’t miss the look Dean gave him.

“Where’s Cas?”

“He’s dead.” Chuck murmured, “Or gone. The archangel smote the crap out of him. I’m sorry.” Tara felt a stone drop in her chest. He’d done the right thing, sacrificed himself for them, and they’d still failed.

“You’re sure?” Dean pressed, “I mean, maybe he just vanished into the light or something.”

“Oh, no. He, like, exploded. Like a water balloon of chunky soup.” Suddenly, Tara was glad that she’d turned down breakfast.

“You…” Sam pointed at Chuck, “You got a…”

“Right here?” Chuck raised a hand to the right side of his head.

“No, no. The uh…”

“Oh.” He raised his other hand and combed through his hair. Chuck’s expression turned to a grimace as he pulled something dark and red out, “Oh, God. Is that a molar? Do I have a molar in my hair? This has been a really stressful day.” He sounded like he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

“Cas, you stupid bastard.”

“Stupid? He was trying to help us.”

“Yeah, exactly.” Dean sounded just as angry as Tara felt.

“So what now?”

“I don’t know.”

“Oh crap.” Chuck muttered. Tara looked back at him only to see him staring off into the middle distance.

“What?”

“I can feel them.”

“Feel who?”

“The angels. They’re coming.”

“Wait, here?!” Tara’s eyes flew around the room in case any of them decided to materialize at that moment.

“How do we get rid of them?” Sam asked. Chuck just shrugged helplessly.

“I’ve got a plan.” Dean pulled out the demon knife.

\------

“Thought we’d find you here.” Tara could hear the entitlement dripping from the angel’s voice before she even turned around. The voice belonged to a tall, balding man with bug eyes. He was standing in the kitchen flanked by two other angels.

“Playtime’s over, Dean. Time to come with us.”

“You just keep your distance, asshat.”

“You’re upset.” The angel seemed genuinely surprised.

“Yeah, a little. You sons of bitches jump-started judgement day!”

“Maybe we  _ let _ it happen but we didn’t  _ start _ anything. Right, Sammy?” He winked at Sam, and Tara found herself shuffling in front of him to glare at the angel. He ignored her. 

“You had a chance to stop your brother, and you couldn’t. So let’s not quibble over who started what. Let’s just say it was all our faults and move on cause like it or not, it’s  _ Apocalypse Now _ .”

“That’s rich coming from you guys.” Tara spat, all her fear and anger coming to a head and overflowing, “At least we were trying to clean up our mess. You actually had the chance to stop it, and you could have, but you just stood by. To me that’s worse than trying and failing!”

“Tara Jones.” The angel finally decided to take notice of her, “My name is Zachariah. Uriel gave me an extensive report on you after the unfortunate events involving Anna. He made you an offer if you stood aside. I’m here to re-extend it under the condition that you pledge your loyalty and services to Heaven like Dean here has.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Tara nearly cut him off, “Do you junkless dicks think I’m really that cheap? That I’d sell out to the people who let the Apocalypse start!?”

“You won’t be selling out, I’m just throwing you a bonus. We’re all back on the same team again.” He looked back at Dean.

“Is that so?” 

“You want to kill the devil, we want you to kill the devil. It’s synergy.”

“And I’m just supposed to trust you? Cram it with walnuts, ugly.”

“This isn’t a game, son. Lucifer is powerful in ways that defy description. We need to strike  _ now _ , hard and fast, before he finds his vessel.”

“His vessel?” Sam sounded doubtful, “Lucifer needs a meatsuit?”

“He  _ is _ an angel. Them’s the rules.” Zachariah chuckled a bit, “And when he touches down, we’re talking four horsemen, red oceans, fiery skies, the greatest hits. You can stop him, Dean. But you need our help.”

“You listen to me, you two-faced douche–after what you did, I don’t want jack squat from you!”

“ _ You _ listen to  _ me _ , boy!” Zachariah finally lost his temper, “You think you can rebel against us? As Lucifer did?” He stopped, his eyes going down to Dean’s hand and the puddle of blood under it.

“You’re bleeding.”

“Oh, yeah. A little insurance policy in case you dicks showed up.” Before Zachariah could react, Dean yanked the sliding door half-closed and slammed his hand on the bloody sigil.

“No!” Zachariah shouted, but it was too late. Light filled the kitchen, and when it cleared, the three angels were gone.

“Learned that from my friend Cas, you son of a bitch.”

“This sucks ass.” Chuck stated. Tara couldn’t agree more.

\------

After leaving Chuck, the three of them went back to Baltimore to lay low while they waited for Bobby. They found a cheap motel near the edge of town and got a room, but as Dean and Tara began heading for the stairs, Sam started back towards the door.

“Tara, you coming?” He called. Tara looked back and forth between the Winchesters. Dean just shrugged.

“Go on. Probably better if you’re there to keep an eye on him.” Tara agreed silently and jogged back to Sam.

The two of them took the train to a rather sketchy part of town. As soon as they stepped off the train, Tara wanted to get back on.

“Um, Sam? What are we doing here?”

“We need to make hex bags so angels and demons can’t find us. Come on.” He took her hand and they walked out of the station together. 

Tara felt a little better holding Sam’s hand as they walked the narrow streets, but that didn’t stop people from wolf-whistling at them. 

“Just ignore them.” Sam muttered as he directed her to one of the many run-down stops on the block.

A host of smells assaulted Tara inside. Spices and herbs were laid out in open containers and there were also a lot of strange amulets and talismans in glass cases.

“May I help you?” An old woman emerged from the back room. She was shorter than Tara, hunched over a mahogany walking stick rubbed smooth and shiny with use. 

“We’re good, thank you.” Sam pulled Tara over to the herbs and began instructing her on how to make a hex bag.

An hour later, they got off the train again back at the hotel. Sam had been a little warmer towards her while they were making the hex bags and on the way back, but she still felt like he was deliberately keeping his distance. When she’d wrapped her arm around him and leaned into him on the train, he hadn’t moved away, but he hadn’t reciprocated the gesture either. 

Now, she walked a couple steps behind him as they went up to their room instead of by his side hand-in-hand. They found Dean cleaning his gun when they opened the door.

“Hey.” 

“Hey. Here.” Sam tossed Dean one of the bags Tara had made, “Hex bags. No way the angels will find us with those. Demons either, for that matter.”

“Where’d you get it?”

“Sam showed me how to make it.” Tara answered.

“How do you know how to make these?” Dean asked. Sam shuffled back and forth a bit.

“I...learned in from Ruby.” Tara felt a bitter taste in the back of her throat. He hadn’t mentioned  _ that _ . But Dean didn’t get all pissy at the mention of the demon, so she didn’t let it get under her skin either. He just put his clean gun down.

“Speaking of, how you doing? You jonesing for another hit of bitch blood or what?”

“It’s weird, to tell you the truth. I’m fine. No shakes, no fever, it’s like whoever put me on that plane cleaned me right up.” 

“Supernatural methadone.”

“Yeah, I guess. Dean–”

“Sam,” Just like in the car, he cut him off, “It’s ok. You don’t have to say anything.” Sam scoffed a bit.

“Well, that’s good. Because what can I even say? I’m sorry? I screwed up? Doesn’t really do it justice, you know? Look, there’s nothing I can do or say that will ever make this right–”

“Then why do you keep bringing it up!?” Dean finally blew up. His outburst made Tara jump, but it seemed to be what Sam needed to hear from his brother. Dean sighed when he saw Tara back up a couple steps and he squashed his anger down.

“Look, all I’m saying is, why do we have to put this under a microscope? We made a mess, we clean it up. That’s it. Alright, so say this is just any other hunt. Hershey? What do we do first?”

“Figure out what we’re hunting.” She answered quietly.

“And where the thing is.” Sam finished.

“Alright. So, we just gotta find...the devil.”

“Literally.” Tara muttered. None of them laughed.

\------

Since she hit the road as a human with Sam and Dean, Tara had always had her air mattress with her. Until tonight. Now, there were two beds and three of them with no sofa to speak of. It wasn’t until after dark and she was getting tired that she realized this and pointed it out to the boys.

“It’s fine,” Sam shrugged, “We can share. If you’re...ok with that.”

“U-uhhh…” Tara shot Dean a look begging him to save her, but he tossed up his hands.

“He’s  _ your _ boyfriend and I ain’t sharing with either of you. Just no getting up to any funny business. No hands below the belts.” Tara blushed heavily.

“Dean!” Sam exclaimed, “It’s fine, Tara, we can sleep in shifts or something if that makes you–”

“No. No, we need all of us to be alert in case the demons find us. Or the angels.” She had to grow up here. They were both adults, and they could sure as hell share a queen bed for one night.

Now that they’d turned off the lights and gone to bed, she was regretting her decision. Just knowing Sam was within arm’s reach wearing nothing but a tight undershirt and boxers while she was similarly clothed was taking her mind down a path it shouldn’t be going down. And it was all thanks to Dean’s comment earlier. If he’d just kept his mouth shut, she’d be able to get some sleep instead being hyper-aware that Sam was just inches away from her. She could feel the heat radiating off him.

She flipped her pillow over again, trying not to think about how cold she was.

“Come here.” Sam’s voice came from behind her. She twisted, looking over her shoulder and squinted at Sam in the dim light.

“What?”

“Neither of us are going to get any sleep with you tossing and turning like that.” He propped himself up on his side and raised an arm, creating a tent in the covers, “Come here.” Tara hesitated, peeking over at Dean. Sam rolled his eyes, “No funny business, I promise.” Tara bit her lip. She knew that physical proximity to him would only lead to more conflicting thoughts in the morning, but Sam was right. They both needed to sleep. She shuffled over. 

Sam was quick to wrap his arm around her and tug her against him. Tara gasped softly when she felt his firm chest press against her back and his legs bump against hers.

“Your feet are freezing.” He mumbled into her hair.

“Sorry.” She muttered, moving them away.

“Where do you think you’re going?” She felt him hook a leg over her shins and bring them back, “Just an observation.” He pressed a kiss into the top of her head, “Good night, Tara.”

“Good night.” She replied, choosing to ignore her inner turmoil in favor of a good night’s rest.

\------

Dean woke them up the next morning when he got back with breakfast.

“Come on, the devil isn’t just gonna off himself.” He shook them awake, “Research time.” Tara groaned as Sam rolled away from her and all the emotions she’d repressed last night came flooding back. She wasn’t even sure what the fate of their relationship would be, Sam was sending her mixed signals, and yet last night was the best she’d slept in the past week! 

“Dean, all we have is dad’s journal. Only one of us can go through that.”

“Good thing Hershey and I have got the next best thing.” Dean flipped on the TV, “Alarmist news stations reporting on all the weird shit that’s going down.” Sam rolled his eyes and went over to the table.

An hour later, Tara wanted to pull her hair out. Every station was reporting the  _ same three stories _ non-stop. No new information, no nothing, just rerunning the same script and bringing in different ‘experts’ to speculate. At first, she and Dean had been making fun of just about everyone, but even that got boring eventually. She’d tuned out the current news anchor in favor of pulling at a loose string in the hem of her flannel shirt while Dean continued to make comments, though it was clear he was getting tired of it too. Sam was just sitting silently pouring through their dad’s journal.

Suddenly, a knock at the door shattered the monotony. They weren’t expecting Bobby for another hour at least. Sam was up first, cocking his gun and moving towards the door. Tara swung her feet onto the floor, just in case. Sam opened the door ajar, and Tara heard whoever was on the other side gasp.

“You ok, lady?”

“Sam....is it really you?” A breathy female voice asked. Sam looked back at them, unsure how to handle the situation. Tara cocked her head at him.

“You’re so firm!” The voice spoke again, with a giddy edge that made Tara  _ very _ uncomfortable.

“Uh, do I know you?”

“No. But  _ I  _ know  _ you _ . You’re Sam Winchester.” Sam stepped away, opening the door further to reveal a blonde woman with the craziest fangirl eyes Tara had ever seen, “And you’re…not what I pictured.” She said when she saw Dean, “And...who are you?” Her eyes had darted to Tara but she seemed to shake off her uncertainty.

“I’m Becky.” She stepped into the room, far too comfortable doing so for Tara’s taste, and stood with her back to her, “I’ve read all about you guys. And I’ve even written a few…” She giggled to herself, “Anyway, Mr. Edlund told me where you were.”

“Chuck?” Dean got up and Sam finally shut the door.

“He’s got a message,” Becky glanced at Tara almost meanly, as if she was unhappy that Tara was there.

“Tara Jones.” She got up, “I’ve been hunting with Sam and Dean for over a year now.” Ok, that was a tiny exaggeration, but she couldn’t help herself.

“Oh. Well I’ve never heard of you.” Tara tried not to take offense at something that was clearly meant to be offensive.

“You said Chuck had a message?” Sam prompted her.

“Right. But he’s being watched. Angels! Nice change-up to the mythology by the way. The demon stuff was getting kind of old.”

“Right, but just um...what’s the message?”

“He had a vision.” Becky closed her eyes, “The Michael sword is on Earth. The angels lost it.” she moved her hand through the air like she was reading a line of text.

“The Michael sword?”

“Becky, does he know where it is?”

“In a castle, on a hill made of 42 dogs.”

“42 dogs?”

“Are you sure you got that right?”

“It doesn’t make sense, but that’s what he said.” She stepped into Sam’s personal space, “I memorized ever word...for you.” She put a hand on his chest. Her audacity made jealousy flare up in Tara. She may not be sure of her relationship right now, but at the moment, Sam was still her boyfriend!

“Um...Becky could you quit touching me?”

“No.” She refused. Sam sent Tara a pleading look, one she was more than happy to respond to.

“I’m gonna go get some food. You want anything, Sam?” She started over to their stuff, but stopped to lay a hand on Sam’s bicep.

“Just the usual, babe,” He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek, “Thanks.”

“You got it.” Tara stood on tip-toe and kissed him back, not hesitating to lock gazes with Becky as she came back down, “You delivered your message. You should go before the angels show up.” She narrowed her eyes, daring Becky to speak against her. The blonde woman sent her a catty look and left, but not before making her hand linger on Sam’s chest longer than was appropriate. As soon as the door closed behind her, Sam shuddered.

“Thanks, babe.” He leaned down to kiss her again, but Tara pulled away.

“You bet.”

Bobby got in a couple hours later, bringing a much-needed change of clothes. 

“Hey, Bobby.” He gave Dean a hug and then he went to Sam.

“Good to see you three all in one piece.” He gave Tara a much-needed hug.

“You weren’t followed, were you?”

“You mean by angels, demons, or Sam’s new superfan?” Sam scoffed.

“You heard.”

“I heard, Romeo. So, sword of Michael, huh?”

“You think we’re talking about the actual sword from the actual archangel?”

“You better friggin’ hope so. I’ll break out the lore.” 

“Great,” Tara said, “You do that, I’m gonna get changed.” She grabbed one of the bags Bobby had brought up–the one that wasn’t bulging with books–and disappeared into the bathroom. There, she rinsed the dirt from the past couple days off her body, and threw on an outfit she’d gotten right before heading to North Dakota.

“Wow, Hershey, you might wanna return that shirt.” Dean said as soon as she emerged from the bathroom.

“What?” She looked down at herself. Did it look bad on her? “Why?”

“It has holes in the shoulders!” Tara looked down at her exposed skin and flushed.

“It’s a fashion style, dumbass.”

“Well not one that should have seen the light of day.”

“I hate to agree with Dean on anything,” Bobby said, “But you might want to get your money back on that one.” Tara rolled her eyes.

“Whatever, Sam likes it. Right, Sam?”

“I–uhhh.” Sam looked back and forth between her, Dean, and Bobby, “It looks...good on you.” He wasn’t very convincing, but she’d take it.

“Besides,  _ I  _ like it and that’s what matters. Do men really find shoulders that distracting? What is this, Catholic school?” The three of them gave her blank looks, “Nevermind. What do we have?” Bobby flipped open the giant book that occupied the coffee table to a picture.

“That’s Michael, toughest sumbitch they got.” Sam turned the page, displaying more images, while Tara and Dean looked over from behind.

“You kidding me? Tough? That guy looks like Cate Blanchett.” Tara snickered.

“Well, I wouldn’t wanna meet him in a dark alley, believe me. He commands the Heavenly Host. During the last big dust-up upstairs, he’s the one who booted Lucifer’s ass to the basement and he did it with that sword. So if we can find it–”

“–We can kick the devil’s ass all over again.” Dean sighed and walked away.

“Great.” Tara leafed through the different images of Michael, “There are about how many swords in the world? And we don’t even know what it looks like.” She pointed at the vastly different depictions of the hilts.

“Ok, if we can’t start there, then where do we start?” Sam rephrased. Bobby gestured to the pile of books on Dean’s bed.

“Divvy up and start reading, try and make sense of Chuck’s nonsense.” Sam got up and started heading for the books, but he stopped before he could reach them. Tara could see turmoil written all over his face.

“Kid? You alright?” Sam turned to face them.

“No, actually.” He took a deep breath, “Bobby, this is all my fault. I’m sorry.”

“Sam, no–”

“Sam–”

“Lilith did not break the final seal. Lilith  _ was _ the final seal.”

“Sam, stop it!” But Sam didn’t listen to his brother. 

“I killed her, and I set Lucifer free.”

“You  _ what _ ?” That confused Tara a bit. Bobby had been there when she’d discovered this!

“You guys warned me about Ruby, the demon blood, but I didn’t listen. I brought this on.” Tara watched with baited breath as Bobby got up slowly.

“You’re damn right you didn’t listen. You were reckless, and selfish, and arrogant.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh, yeah?” Bobby advanced until he was just unches away from Sam, “You’re sorry you started  _ Armageddon _ ? Yeah, I knew Lilith was the final seal, but I didn’t figure you were the stupid bastard who killed her! I’d hoped that Dean and Tara stopped you and some other demon had to do the deed! This kind of thing don’t get forgiven, boy. If, by some miracle, we pull this off, I want you to lose my number. You understand me?”

“Bobby!” Tara exclaimed. Sure, Sam didn’t deserve to get off scott-free, but he didn’t deserve that! Sam nodded briskly, his eyes flicking everywhere but Bobby. Tara could tell he was fighting tears.

“There’s an old church nearby. Maybe I’ll go read some of the lore books there.”

“Yeah. You do that.” Without so much as glancing at her or Dean, Sam turned and left the room, hanging his head. As soon as the door closed, Tara grabbed her jacket and headed for it herself.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“I’m going with Sam.” She replied shortly, grabbing a couple books that weren’t in English on her way out, “I’m tired of being cooped up in here.”

  
  


“Sam, wait up!” Tara caught up with him at the corner outside the hotel. He didn’t say anything, in fact he barely acknowledged that she was there, but he slowed his pace so she wasn’t jogging to keep up. After walking in silence for a couple blocks, it became apparent that she was going to have to speak first.

“I’m sorry Bobby said that to you. It was too harsh.” Sam scoffed.

“Too harsh? I let Lucifer out. I started the end of the world and you’re trying to give me a free pass?”

“No, I’m just saying Bobby was out of line. You were dupped, Sam. To some extent, we all were.”

“But I’m the one who let him out. And now anyone who dies because of this...all that blood will be on my hands.” Tara shook her head.

“Sam, if you hadn’t done it, Ruby probably would have. They would’ve found a way. You just had...bad luck.” Sam stopped abruptly.

“Bad luck? So I guess it was also bad luck that my mom made a deal with Yellow Eyes, and bad luck that I’ve had demon blood in me since I was six months old? No. I knew exactly what I was doing when I didn’t listen to Dean, or Bobby, or you. It wasn’t bad luck, it was my choice.”

“Sam–”

“Every time.  _ Every _ time I try to do something good it gets twisted into something horrible and thrown back in my face. And I’ve tried to atone for those past mistakes. But Bobby was right. This is unforgivable.”

“I know it may seem that way now, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try. I’d say finding the Michael sword and killing Lucifer would go a long way.” Sam shook his head and started walking again, this time not bothering to keep with Tara’s pace.

“Sam!” He didn’t look back, so she ran to catch up, placing herself in front of him, “Why are you acting like this?”

“Like what?”

“So hot and cold! Being sweet on the plane, then ignoring me in the car? And then last night when you pretty much moulded yourself to me but now you won’t even look me in the eye!” Sam didn’t reply, he just circumvented her and continued down the sidewalk. Tara looked after him with tears in her eyes. This time, she didn’t pursue him. But she didn’t feel like going back to the hotel yet either.

\------

After wandering the streets aimlessly for what had to be a couple hours, Tara found herself sitting in a coffee shop looking down at her old phone. She’d had it in her pocket when Cas had arrived at Bobby’s with Dean, and somehow it had survive all the chaos that followed. Her first instinct had been to call her mom, even just to hear her voice, but she didn’t dare risk it. The angels and the demons would no doubt take advantage of any weakness she showed. That is, if any demons still alive were aware that she existed. Sam  _ had _ killed a lot of them at that convent. But then her problem became the angels. Zachariah clearly wanted her on their team and no way did she want to commit to that. But after Sam’s treatment of her, she wasn’t sure she could stand being in the same room–let alone the same car–with him for hours on end. She needed to get away.

Tara groaned softly and let her head rest on the lore books she’d taken. She hadn’t cracked a single one open yet.

“Here you are.” The barista brought her coffee and chocolate croissant out to where she was sitting.

“Thanks.” Tara unwrapped the warm, sweet treat. The smell reminded her of Seattle-Washington, but in a good way. Her roommate had always brought these back to their room when she was studying for a test. She said they helped her focus. Tara dropped the croissant as if she’d been burned.

“Monica.” She whispered. Monica was from around here, was she? Or somewhere out east. Tara was sure of it! And the fall semester had started, sure, but maybe she’d convince her parents to let Tara crash at hers for a couple days while she figured out what to do. She still had her hex bag, and she doubted the angels would check there. Tara scrolled through her contacts until she found Monica’s name, but then she hesitated. Her eyes focused back on the lore books. She knew how much Bobby cared about his vast library. No matter how pissed she was at him for pushing Sam away like he had, returning them was the right thing to do.

\------

It was after dark by the time Tara finally found her way back to the motel. From now on, she was making sure she knew the address before she went off on her own! Looking up at the room’s windows, it was impossible to tell if Sam was back. The lights were on inside, but the room was on the third story so she couldn’t see anything beyond that.

She jogged up the stairs, the books tucked under one arm. As soon as she emerged onto the third floor, she smelled it. Sulfur. Tars sprinted to the door and kicked it down just in time to see Bobby stab himself with the demon knife. She couldn’t help the scream that issued from her as she watched Bobby collapse and Dean struggle for his breath back. They weren’t alone in the room either. A big guy and a brunette a couple inches shorter than her both turned to face her.

“Well, hello there.” Before Tara could blink, the brunette had her by the throat and pinned against the wall, “You’re a pretty little thing. Where’d these lunkheads find you?” Tara struggled as the demon sniffed her neck and hair. Dean sprang to try and free her, but the big guy intercepted him.

“Ruby?” Tara asked. The demon tsked at her.

“Try again, sweetcheeks.” 

“No!” Sam had appeared in the doorway, his eyes locked on Bobby’s crumpled form. The demon scowled. 

“I’ll be right back.” With inhuman strength, she hurled Tara into the already-demolished closet doors and confronted Sam.

“Heya, Sammy. You miss me? Cause I sure missed you.”

“Meg.”

“I guess third time’s the charm.” She giggled, easily evading Sam’s punch. Tara’s head was spinning from the impact and the information. This was _ Meg _ ? From the books? How had she gotten out of Hell a second time? While she fought to make her aching body sit up, both Sam and Dean were losing their brawls against Meg and the other demon.

“Not so easy without those super-special demon powers, huh Sammy?” Meg taunted him. Tara crawled forward, heading for the other demon. His back was to her, and he was beating Dean to a pulp. Once she was close enough, Tara delivered a sweeping blow to the backs of the demon’s knees. He went down hard and Dean used the opening Tara provided to withdraw the demon knife from Bobby and stab the other demon in the chest. When Meg saw what had happened, she smoked out of the brunette.

“Bobby!” As soon as the smoke was gone, Dean threw down the knife and collapsed next to him.

“Dean, is he…” Sam staggered to his feet and Tara did the same.

“He’s alive.” Dean choked out, “We need to get to a hospital.”

While Sam and Dean worked together to carry Bobby down the stairs, Tara cleared all their stuff out of the room. When they got to the Impala, Tara swapped placed with Dean and he got behind the wheel. Driving faster than Tara had ever seen, they made it to the nearest emergency room just ahead of an ambulance. Dean didn’t even put the car in park before he was getting out and helping Sam with Bobby. Tara followed half a step behind, ready to catch Bobby if either Winchester lost their grip.

“We need a doctor!” Dean yelled as they burst through the doors. A nurse came running towards them.

“What happened?”

“He was stabbed.” The nurse called for a gurney and as soon as Bobby was on it, they were wheeling him away. The three of them tried to follow, but the nurse stopped them.

“Just wait here.”

“No, no, we can’t just leave him!” Sam protested.

“Just don’t move, I’ve got questions.” The nurse followed the gurney. Tara covered her face with shaking hands and Sam raked a hand through his hair.

“Guys, we gotta go.”

“No way, Dean.”

“I’m not leaving until I know he’s gonna be alright.” Tara felt like she was going to throw up. She wasn’t having time to process any of this!

“The demons heard where the sword is!” Dean hissed at them, “We gotta get to it before they do, if we’re not too late already. Come on!” Dean didn’t physically pull either of them out of the hospital, but Sam and Tara both followed without further argument.

\------

On the drive to their dad’s storage lockup, Tara found herself alone in the backseat again. Her foot tapped restlessly on the floor while her mind raced. Every few minutes, she would wonder how Bobby was doing, if he was going to be ok, if he was still alive. No. She shook her head. He had to be ok. He just  _ had _ to be.

The sky was still dark when they reached Castle Storage. Dean parked as close as he could to their dad’s unit, and the three of them wasted no time with words as they armed themselves. Tara put a fresh clip in her gun and hid a couple iron knives on her person just in case the demons had beat them here. The knives wouldn’t kill demons, but they’d put them in a world of hurt. Sam and Dean loaded their own guns and each grabbed a shotgun loaded with rock salt.

For once, they got in somewhere with an actual key as opposed to picking the lock. Once the door was open, Tara ducked past Dean and went inside. Sam and Dean aimed their shotguns over her shoulders, ready to shoot at any intruders, but there was no need. 

There were two dead bodies inside the storage room. From the way they were confined to the Key of Solomon on the floor and the reek of sulfur in the air, they were demons. As the three of them progressed into the room, they found a couple more bodies much like the first two. There was no evidence of life anywhere.

“I see you told the demons where the sword is.” Tara jumped and spun. In the back of the previously empty room stood Zachariah, flanked by the same two goons from Chuck’s house.

“Oh, thank God. The angels are here.” Dean deadpanned.

“And to think, they could’ve grabbed it anytime they wanted.” Zachariah stepped over one of the bodies and raised a hand. The iron door slid shut, trapping them in the room, “It was right in front of them.” Tara glanced around the room, but there was no sign of a sword.

“What do you mean?”

“We may have planted that particular piece of prophecy inside Chuck’s skull, but it happened to be true. We  _ did _ lose the Michael sword, we truly couldn’t find it. Until now, you just hand-delivered it to us.”

“We don’t have anything.”

“It’s  _ you _ , Chucklehead.” Zachariah said to Dean, “You’re the Michael sword.” Tara narrowed her eyes at Zachariah. Was he stroking out? How could Dean be a sword unless someone transfigured him into one Harry Potter style? 

“What, you thought you could  _ actually _ kill Lucifer?” Zacariah went on when Dean didn’t have an immediate, witty remark, “You simpering wad of insecurity and self-loathing? No. You’re just a human, Dean. And not much of one.” Tara found herself getting offended on Dean’s behalf, but managed to hold her tongue.

“What do you mean I’m the sword?” Dean finally asked.

“You’re Michael’s weapon. Or rather his...receptacle.” Tara wrinkled her nose. That sounded dirty in a not-fun way.

“I’m a vessel?”

“You’re  _ the  _ vessel.” Zachariah corrected, “Michael’s vessel.”

“How–why me?”

“Because you’re chosen! It’s a great honor, Dean.” He sounded truly puzzled that Dean wasn’t jumping for joy.

“Oh yeah. Yeah, life as an angel condom. That’s real fun. I think I’ll pass, thanks.” Zachariah shook his head disapprovingly.

“Joking. Always joking. Well, no more jokes.” He raised a finger gun at them. He pointed it at Dean first, but then it drifted over to Sam.

“Bang.” Tara heard bones crunch and Sam collapsed, screaming in pain.

“Sam!” Tara knelt next to him.

“You son of a bitch!” Tara glared at Zachariah just in time to see him point the gun at her.

“Bang.” Tara screamed as she felt both shoulders splinter. Her first instinct was to reach for what remained of her joints, but that only enflamed them more. She collapsed against the wall behind her.

“You keep mouthing off, I’ll break more than their bones.” Zachariah was saying to Dean. Tara could barely register his words, “I am completely and utterly through screwing around. The war has begun and we don’t have our general. That’s bad. Now Michael is going to take his vessel and lead the final charge against the Adversary. You understand me?” Sam was fighting to get to his knees.

“How many humans die in the crossfire, huh? A million? Five? Ten?”

“Probably more. If Lucifer goes unchecked, do you know how many die? All of them. He’ll roast the planet alive.” Tara swallowed and lurched forward, getting her legs under her. Like Sam, she didn’t have the strength to stand, but she wasn’t about to lay there in a moaning puddle.

“There’s a reason you’re telling me this instead of just nabbing me.” Dean realized, “You need my consent. Michael needs my say-so to ride around in my skin.”

“Unfortunately, yes.” Zachariah admitted.

“Well, there’s gotta be another way.”

“There is no other way.” He insisted, “There  _ must _ be a battle, Michael  _ must _ defeat the Serpent. It is written.”

“Yeah, maybe. But on the other hand, eat me. The answer’s no.”

“Ok. How about this? Your friend Bobby–we know he’s gravely injured. Say yes and we’ll heal him. Say no, and he’ll never walk again.” Tara passed a gasp of shock off as a gasp of pain. Neither of those optioned implied that Bobby was, or would die! Dean communicated silently with Sam for a moment before giving his answer.

“No.”

“Then how about we heal  _ you _ from...stage four stomach cancer?” Almost as soon as he said that, Dean was coughing, bending down until his legs gave out. Tara could see the blood on his hand.

“No.” He growled.

“Ok, let’s get really creative. Any bets on...how long Tara lasts with a burst appendix?” As soon as the angel glanced at her, pain exploded in her abdomen. It was by far the worst pain she had ever experienced. She was dimly aware of her shoulders throbbing as she collapsed to the ground again, but that was miniscule compared to the pain in her stomach. She felt sweat break out on her forehead as she tried to stay still but no matter what she did, the pain just kept getting worse. She was vaguely aware of Sam collapsing next to her, gasping for air.

White light flashed across her vision. It was so bright and was over so fast that Tara had to question if she was hallucinating. She head fell to the side and her eyes landed on Sam, who was clutching his chest, still struggling for oxygen.

Tara groaned as another flash of light blinded her temporarily. Ok,  _ that _ one had to be real. The pain in her stomach grew more intense. It was completely unlike any period cramps she’d had–even the worst ones came and went in waves. This pain never relented for a moment. It just got worse. Next to her, Sam wasn’t moving as much anymore, the desperate rise and fall of his chest was the only indication that he was still alive.

Then suddenly, the pain was gone. One moment, Tara was sure she was going to have a heart attack from the agony, and the next, her body was just...numb. Her shoulders no longer throbbed and she no longer felt like there were a thousand porcupines rolling around inside her. Her body went totally limp on the concrete floor, tears of relief spilling over. Then she remembered the angel threat.

Tara looked around, searching for Zachariah and his goons, but they found someone else instead. Standing just a few feet from them was Castiel. Tara fought to sit up, her muscles still very much overloaded from the pain. Sam and Dean were moving in similarly sluggish states and ultimately, she and Sam had to work together to stand up.

“Are we dead?” Tara’s voice was hoarse. Castiel shook his head and walked towards them.

“No. But you three need to be more careful.”

“Yeah, I’m starting to get that.” Dean was clearly winded, “Your frat brothers are bigger dicks than I thought.”

“I don’t mean the angels. Lucifer is circling his vessel and once he takes it, those hex bags won’t be enough to protect you.” Castiel laid a hand on Sam and another on Dean and they both bent forward, grunting in pain. Before she could protest, Castiel placed a hand on her too. Fire lanced through her torso, and while it was nowhere near the agony she’d just endured, Tara found herself grabbing a handful of Sam’s jacket and squeezing.

“What the hell was that?” 

“An Enochian sigil. It’ll hide you from every angel in creation, including Lucifer.”

“What, did you just brand us with it?”

“No, I carved it into your ribs.” Tara pressed a finger against her ribs through her shirt and sure enough, she felt ridges in the bone that  _ definitely  _ hadn’t been there a few seconds ago.

“Cas, were you really dead?” Sam asked.

“Yes.” His answer was swift and frank.

“Then how are you back?” Instead of answering, Cas vanished to the sound of flapping wings. Tara rolled her eyes, but was too worn out to be fully angry.

“We need to get back to Bobby.” Sam said as he surveyed the demons’ bodies, “Make sure he’s ok.” Tara found herself nodding. Dean was already halfway out the door.

\------

Back at the hospital, they found Bobby out of surgery and conscious, but any relief Tara felt at seeing Bobby alive was soured when the doctor came in and told them that he’d likely never walk again.

“Unlikely to walk again?!” Bobby quoted the doctor directly, “Why you snot-nosed son of a bitch!” His anger sent the young doctor running out the door, “Wait til I get out of this bed! I’ll use my game leg to kick your friggin’ ass! Yeah, you’d better run!” Tara tried to put on a smile for Bobby’s sake.

“You believe that yahoo?” He asked them.

“Screw him, you’ll be fine.” Dean responded immediately.

“So, let me ask the million-dollar question,” Sam changed the subject, “What do we do now?”

“Well, we save as many as we can for as long as we can, I guess. It’s bad; whoever wins, heaven  _ or _ hell, we’re boned.”

“What if  _ we _ win?” Tara looked over at Dean, her incredulous expression matching Sam’s, “I’m serious. I mean, screw the angels and demons and their crap Apocalypse. They wanna fight a war? They can find their own planet. This one’s ours and I say they get the hell off it.”

“You sound like a grumpy old man talking about his lawn, Dean.” Tara teased. Sam chuckled, but Dean ignored them both.

“We take ‘em all on. We kill the devil, hell, we even kill Michael if we have to, but we do it our own damn selves.”

“And how are we supposed to do all this, genius?”

“I got no idea.” Dean shrugged, “But what I do have is a GED and a give ‘em hell attitude. I’ll figure it out.” Bobby looked over at Sam and Tara and they both shrugged.

“You’re nine kinds of crazy, boy.”

“It’s been said.” He accepted the insult like a compliment, “Listen, you stay on the mend. We’ll see you in a bit.” Sam and Tara followed him out of the room.

“Sam.” Bobby stopped them, “I was awake. I know what I said. I just want to you know that that  _ was _ the demon talking. I ain’t cutting you out, boy. Not ever.” Tara snuck a glance up at Sam and smiled a bit when she saw the look on his face.

“Thanks, Bobby.”

“You’re welcome. I deserve a damn medal for this, but, you’re welcome.” Sam flashed a small smile that sent butterflies through Tara even though it wasn’t directed at her.

“You know, I was thinking,” Sam said once they got out into the parking lot, “Maybe we could go after the Colt.”

“Why? What difference would that make?”

“Well, we could use it on Lucifer. I mean, you just said back there–”

“I just said a bunch of crap for Bobby’s benefit.” Dean stopped walking, “I mean, I’ll fight. I’ll fight to the last man–or woman–but let’s at least be honest. We don’t stand a snowball’s chance and you know that. I mean, hell, you of all people know that.” He continued on to the car.

“Dean.” Sam didn’t move until Dean looked at him, “Is there something you wanna say to me?”

“I tried, Sammy. I mean, I  _ really _ tried. But I just can’t keep pretending that everything’s alright, because it’s not, and it’s never going to be. You chose a demon over your girlfriend  _ and _ over your own brother and look what happened.”

“I would give anything– _ anything _ to take it all back.” Sam shot a look at Tara and she bowed her head. She hadn’t wanted Dean to drag her into this argument, but she couldn’t deny that, now that the dust was settling, she was feeling more than a little betrayed.

“I know you would, and I know how sorry you are, I do, but man...you were the one that I depended on the most. And you let me down in ways that I can’t even…” He took a moment to gather his words, “I’m just–I’m having a hard time forgiving and forgetting here, you know?”

“What can I do?” Were the first words out of Sam’s mouth. No more excuses, no more apologies, just that one question. His eyes went back and forth between Tara and his brother.

“Honestly?” Dean answered first, “Nothing. I just don’t...I don’t think that we can ever be what we were, you know? I just don’t think I can trust you.” Tara saw the way Sam’s expression changed when Dean said that. She saw the guilt and self-loathing become true hurt.

Then Dean just walked away, continued on to the car. Tara waited a moment to follow.

“Tara.” Sam’s voice was thick, “What can I do?” She stopped and looked back at him. It broke her heart when she saw the tears in his eyes, but she couldn’t lie to him.

“I don’t know.” She shook her head, “I just…” She couldn’t bring herself to say it, so she didn’t say anything. She just went and joined Dean in the car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the kudos & comments, they make my day!


	32. Good God, Y’all!

The three of them stayed in town for three days trying to take care of Bobby while he was in the hospital. It was a job easier said than done–when Bobby failed to get a different answer about his legs from every other doctor he spoke to, he got quiet. Tara hadn’t heard him utter a word in two days now. Even once he was able to get out of bed, he just sat in his wheelchair staring out the window.

Things weren’t much better with the three of them either. Sam and Dean were pretending as best they could that their conversation in the parking lot didn’t happen, and every time Tara caught Sam looking at her, he was giving her those sad puppy eyes. Since Bobby had brought her air mattress, they hadn’t had to share a bed again and a part of her was grateful for that. More and more, Tara was feeling like she and Sam were only a couple in title. For three days they’d been here, doing nothing but researching the devil and not once had either of them suggested going on a date. 

Before all this, from the moment they got together, she and Sam had been very tactile. They’d always found an excuse to have some sort of physical contact, whether that was holding hands or sitting close enough that their arms were brushing. But now, it was rare that they were at the coffee table at the same time. Normally, if one of them was at the table, the other one was lying on their bed. 

Even now, as they stood in the doorway to Bobby’s room, Sam was on one side of the doorway and Tara was on the other. In a way, Tara was glad that Sam was giving her space instead of trying to push her, but another part of her really missed the physical contact. 

“We gotta cheer him up.” Dean materialized behind them and stood next to Tara, “Maybe I’ll give him a back rub.”

“Dean.”

“Well what then?” 

“Look,” Sam lowered his voice even more, “We might have to wrap our heads around the idea that Bobby might not just bounce back this time.” Tara felt something bumping against her thigh repeatedly. When she looked down, she saw that it was the massive yellow envelope Dean had.

“Whatcha got there?”

“Went to radiology and got some glamour shots.” Dean removed an image from the envelope and handed it to her. It took Tara’s mind a second to make sense of what she was seeing.

“Holy shit.” She muttered.

“What?” Sam looked over her shoulder.

“Let’s just say the doctors are baffled.

“Holy crap.” Sam reached from behind her and grabbed the image, pulling it closer so he could see the details. In the process, his skin brushed hers, and Tara could feel his breath making her hair dance on the back of her neck. Her heart fluttered against her will.

“Yeah, well, Cas carved you two up too.” Sam’s phone rang, and he pulled back to answer it. Tara felt her heart drop a bit at the loss of contact as he stepped back to the other side of the doorway.

“Hello? Castiel?”

“Speak of the devil.”

“Not funny anymore, Dean. He might actually appear.” She couldn’t help a little smile at the way Dean’s eyes widened.

“Uh, St. Martin’s Hospital. Why? What are you–Cas?” Sam pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at them, exasperated.

A team of doctors came rushing down the hall with a resuscitation unit and the three of them pressed themselves against the wall to let them pass. Tara watched at the team went to the end of the hall, and she was stunned to spot Castiel striding towards them.

“Cellphone, Cas? Really? Since when do angels need to reach out and touch someone?”

“You’re hidden from angels now–all angels. I won’t be able to simply–”

“Enough foreplay.” Bobby interjected, “Get over here and lay your damn hands on.” When the angel didn’t move, Bobby actually looked over at them, “Get healing. Now.”

“I can’t.” Tara gulped as Bobby swiveled his chair to face them, a dangerous look in his eye.

“Say again?”

“I’m cut off from Heaven and much of Heaven’s power. Certain things I can do, certain things I can’t.”

“You’re telling me you lost your mojo just in time to get me stuck in this trap the rest of my life?!”

“I’m sorry.” While Tara couldn’t see his face, Castiel’s apology sounded completely sincere.

“Shove it up your ass.” Bobby turned back to the window.

“At least he’s talking now.” Dean said to Sam and Tara.

“I heard that.” Bobby snapped.

“I don’t have much time,” Cas came back over to them, “We need to talk.”

“Ok.”

“Your plan, to kill Lucifer.”

“Yeah, you wanna help?”

“No. It’s foolish; it can’t be done.”

“Oh, well thanks for the support.”

“But I believe I have the solution. There is someone besides Michael strong enough to take on Lucifer, strong enough to stop the Apocalypse.”

“Who’s that?” Sam asked

“The one who resurrected me and put you on that airplane. The one who began everything.” Oh no. He wasn’t going where Tara thought he was, was he? “God.” Yes, yes he was, “I’m gonna find God.” Tara had to laugh. Dean glanced down the hall in either direction to make sure no one had heard Cas before he pulled Tara and Sam into the room and shut the door. 

“God?” 

“Yes.”

“ _ God _ ?” Dean repeated.

“Yes. He isn’t in Heaven, he has to be somewhere.”

“Try New Mexico. I hear he’s on a tortilla.”

“No, he’s not on any flatbread.” Tara rolled her eyes. No, God was at the corner of All-Powerful and I Don’t Give a Crap. She’d spent enough time praying to know that, no matter what her Sunday school teacher tried to tell her.

“Listen, Chuckles, even if there  _ is _ a God, he’s either dead–and that’s the generous theory–”

“He  _ is _ out there, Dean.” Cas insisted.

“– _ or _ he’s up and kicking and doesn’t give a rat’s ass about any of us. I mean, look around you man. The world is in the toilet! We are literally at the end of days here, and he’s off somewhere drinking booze out of a coconut, alright?”

“Enough!” Cas whirled around to face Dean, “This is not a theological issue, it’s strategic. With God’s help, we  _ can _ win.”

“It’s a pipe dream, Cas.”

“I killed two angels this week.” Castiel stepped forward until he and Dean were inches away from each other, “My brothers. I’m hunted, I rebelled, and I did it– _ all _ of it–for you. And you failed. You and your brother and your friend destroyed the world.” Tara flinched. In these past days, she’d heard Sam and Dean blame themselves and each other for what happened, but this was the first time she’d heard herself accused aloud. Castiel went on.

“And I lost everything for nothing. So keep your opinions to yourself.”

“You didn’t drop in just to tear us a new hole, what is it you want.”

“I did come for something. An amulet.”

“An amulet? What kind?”

“It’s very rare, very powerful. It burns hot in God’s presence, it’ll help me find him.”

“A-a God EMF?” Sam cocked an eyebrow.

“Well, I don’t know what you’re talking about, I got nothing like that.”

“I know  _ you _ don’t.” Cas looked back at Dean and his eyes drifted down to the pendant Dean always wore around his neck.

“What, this?”

“May I borrow it?”

“No.” Dean growled.

“Dean, give it to me.” For a tense moment, Tara thought Dean was going to refuse again, but instead he took the necklace off.

“Alright, I guess.” He held it in his hands a moment, clearly not wanting to part with it. He started to hand it to Cas, but pulled back suddenly.

“Don’t lose it.” Cas didn’t respond verbally, but when he reached up slowly and took the necklace, Dean didn’t resist.

“Great, now I feel naked.” Dean groused.

“I’ll be in touch.” Invisible wings made the bed curtains flutter and Cas was gone.

“When you find God, tell him to send legs!” Bobby shouted at the spot where Cas had just been standing.

“So...what do we do in the meantime?” Tara broke the silence. She was leaning on the windowsill next to Dean while Sam sat on the table in the corner.

“Try and find the devil, I guess.” Sam shrugged. But before Tara could groan about having to spend the foreseeable future doing research, Bobby’s phone rang.

“Hello?” Tara could hear static on the other end, but no discernable words, “Rufus? I can’t hear you.” There was more static, but this time Tara managed to catch a couple words–’help’ and ‘demons’.

“Where are you? Colorado? River Pass Colorado?” He kept repeating, “Rufus? You there? Rufus!” Through the static, Tara heard the unmistakable sound of gunshots. Then the call cut out. Bobby looked at the three of them, the look in his eyes saying more than words ever could.

“River Pass, Colorado.” Dean said, pushing off the windowsill, “We’ll be there in two days.”

\------

Two days became almost three when they hit major construction passing through Indiana. It slowed them enough that they had to stop for an extra night so they could get some sleep and arrive at River Pass well-rested instead of on their last legs. 

Of course, it wouldn’t be a true hunt if they only hit one bump in the road. This second one came about two miles out of River Pass, and it wasn’t so much of a bump in the road as it was a collapsed bridge. 

Dean pulled to a stop right before the drop and they all got out. After a quick glance at the large gap and the rocky banks of the stream below, it became clear that there would be no getting Baby across.

“This is the only road in or out.” Dean stated. 

“Let’s call Bobby, let him know we’re here.” Tara suggested. Sam whipped his phone out, but shook his head.

“No signal.”

“Rufus was right, demons got this place locked down.”

“Looks like we’re hiking in.” 

“And the hits just keep on coming.” They all went around to the trunk and armed up. When Dean handed a shotgun out to Tara, she turned it down.

“I’m still not 100% with those.”

“Take it. Bad shot’s better than no shot and it’s not like you’re shooting real bullets.” Tara hesitantly accepted the weapon, but grabbed her own gun for good measure.

When they finally got into town, it was completely deserted. There were clear signs of a struggle–abandoned cars, cars that were flipped over, doors hung askew and broken windows in houses and shops, and not a soul in sight. When they reached the first flipped car, Dean went around it on one side, Sam and Tara on the other. Tara crouched, looking into the wreckage in case a demon was lying in wait, but she didn’t see anything. She and Sam straightened up and continued on with Dean. A tan car up ahead was abandoned in the street, engine still running and hazard lights flashing. As they got closer, Tara could hear the song playing on the radio. They approached with caution, she and Sam aiming at the open door, but there was no one inside. Sam reached in and turned the car off. The silence that followed was even more creepy than the faint, staticy music.

As they progressed into what appeared to be the main square, they passed another car. Unlike the others, which were nondescript and in need of a wash, this one was a shiny, cherry-red mustang. Tara’s eyes swept over the car. She would never label herself a car person, but this was a nice ride. Dean whistled his approval.

Up ahead, they found another abandoned car in the middle of the road, only this one had a large puddle of blood outside the driver’s door that trailed around to the front. It looked like whoever had been injured had been dragged away towards the church. There was also an overturned baby stroller, but no bodies in sight.

Cautiously, they started to follow the blood trail towards the church but they all stopped at the sound of a gun being cocked behind them. Tara whipped around to find that the person holding it was a woman who was probably approaching the end of her forties with long, light brown hair and a mean scowl.

“Ellen?” 

“Hello, boys.” The woman didn’t lower her gun until Dean lowered his.

“Ellen, what the heck’s going on here?” He walked towards her and got a face full of holy water for his trouble. Some of it splattered on Sam and Tara too. Ellen quickly raised her gun back up, but none of them sizzled.

“We’re us.” 

“Then who’s she?” Ellen trained her gun on Tara instead.

“This is Tara Jones.” Sam introduced her, “She’d a friend.” Tara could feel Ellen looking her over, assessing her, so she lifted her chin a bit and looked her in the eyes. Apparently, that passed Ellen’s test, as the woman lowered her gun and brushed past them, heading for the church. She waved for them to follow.

The entrance to the back of the church was lined with salt and barred with a Devil’s Trap. As soon as they passed inside, Ellen turned around, her stony exterior gone.

“Real glad to see you boys.” She hugged Dean, and then promptly smacked him across the face.

“The can of whup-ass I ought to open on you!” She scolded.

“Ow!”

“You can’t pick up a phone? What, are you allergic to giving me peace of mind? I gotta find out that you’re alive from Rufus?!” Tara found herself fighting a grin. She was really starting to like her.

“Sorry, Ellen.” Dean rolled over immediately.

“Yeah, you better be. You better put me on speed dial, kid.”

“Yes, ma’am.” As Ellen started down the stairs, Dean twisted back and shared a look with Sam. Tara just shook her head, still amused, and started down herself.

“What’s going on, Ellen?”

“More than I can handle alone.”

“How many demons are there?”

“Pretty much the whole town, minus the dead people and these guys.” She turned to face them, “So, this is it, right? End times?” Tara glanced between the brothers, ready to follow their lead on whether or not they told Ellen the whole truth.

“Seems like it.” Sam responded. Ellen nodded and knocked on the double doors at the bottom of the stairs.

“It’s me.” There was some movement on the other side of the door before it opened to reveal a community room. There were probably ten people, most of them middle aged or older, most of them up and pacing. Tara’s eyes landed on a young couple sitting at one of the long tables. The woman was heavily pregnant.

“This is Sam, Dean, and Tara.” Ellen told the group, “They’re hunters; they’re here to help.”

“You guys hip to this whole demon thing?” The man who spoke was the one who opened the door, and he seemed to have the most confidence out of anyone in the room.

“Yeah, are you?”

“My wife’s eyes turned black and she came at me with a brick.” An older man sitting across from the couple answered Dean, “Kinda makes you embrace the paranormal.”

“Alright, catch us up.” Dean said.

“I doubt I know more than you. Rufus called, said he was in town investigating omens. All of a sudden, the whole town was possessed. Me and Jo were nearby–”

“You’re hunting with Jo?” Dean cut her off. That was news to Tara as well. The last she’d heard of either Harvelle, at least in the books, was the Roadhouse was gone and Jo had been hunting on her own.

“Yeah, for awhile now.” Ellen replied, “We got here, and the place–well, the place was like you see it. Couldn’t find Rufus, then me and Jo got separated. I was out looking for when I found you.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll find her.”

“Either way, these people cannot just sit here.” Sam pointed out, “We gotta get them out now.”

“It’s not that easy, I’ve been trying. We’ve already made a run for it once.”

“What happened?”

“There used to be twenty of us.” Tara surveyed the room again, consciously counting the number of people. Almost half of the group had been killed in one failed run. 

“Well, there’s four of  _ us _ now.”

“You don’t know what it’s like out there. Demons are everywhere. We won’t be able to cover everybody.”

“What if we get everyone guns?” Sam suggested.

“What, are you gonna arm up Baby Bump over here?”

“The more salt we can fire at once, the more demons we can keep away.”

“Sam, I agree with Dean on this one. I’ve been practicing with shotguns for months now and  _ I’m  _ still not confident with them. Dean looked over the group of people again.

“Yeah, but like with you, we’re not looking for perfect shots. We put up enough of a fight they might decide we’re not worth the trouble. There’s a sporting good store we passed on Main on the way in. I bet they’ve got guns.” Dean put down the duffel bag of supplies he’d carried in.

“Alright, you stay.” Sam told Ellen, “We’ll go.”

“What about–”

“If Jo and Rufus are out there, we’ll bring them back.” Ellen didn’t protest again, so the three of them left the room. As soon as the door shut behind them, Dean stopped Sam.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on. Why don’t Tara and I just go?”

“What?”

“Yeah, somebody’s gotta stay here and start giving ‘em shotgun 101.”

“Yeah, Ellen.” Sam tried to start up the stairs, but Dean blocked him with a hand on his chest.

“It’s gonna go a lot faster if you stay and help, ok?”

“While you and Tara go get guns, and salt,  _ and _ look for Jo and Rufus? Neither of them know Tara, and if they find her and don’t see you, who knows what they’ll do? It’s simple; three tasks, three of us.”

“Hershey and I can handle it.” Sam clenched his jaw and Tara swallowed hard. There was a storm brewing here.

“You don’t want me going out there.”

“I didn’t say that.” Dean’s voice went up half an octave.

“Around demons.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Tara?” Sam turned to her.

“Guys, don’t–”

“Yeah, tiebreaker.” Dean faced her too and she sighed.

“I think if Sam says he’s good, then we have to give him the benefit of the doubt.” Dean slumped a bit.

“Fine.” Sam said, “I’m good. Now let’s go.” He started up the stairs. 

It was just as quiet as earlier when they got outside, but after what Ellen said, Tara felt like there were eyes everywhere, watching them. She clenched her shotgun that much tighter.

“Tara, you get the salt.” Sam decided, “Dean, get the guns. I’ll keep an eye out for Jo and Rufus.”

“We’ll go together.” Dean countered.

“Dean, it’s right there. Can we at least do this like professionals?” He cocked and raised his shotgun, marching away from them. Tara glanced at Dean. Sam  _ did  _ have a point. If they split up, the jobs would get done faster. She headed over to the Mini Mart on the corner.

The shop was dark inside, but everything appeared to be in order. Tara quickly located the canisters of rock salt near the back by all the canned goods. She put her shotgun down on the floor and started shoving them into a bag she’d grabbed from the checkout counter. After filling the bag to its limit and tucking a few more canisters of salt under each arm, Tara reclaimed her gun. Before she stood up out of her crouch, she checked the mirrors in the corners for demons. They were clear.

Then a gunshot rang out in the street. 

Tara took off at a sprint, dropping the salt she’d had under her arms. When she emerged from the shop, she looked around frantically for Sam. Her eyes found Dean instead, who had just come from inside the sports store, his duffel bags loaded down. Tara could hear a brawl going down behind the Mini Mart, so she went in that direction. Dean sprinted to catch up. 

Tara rounded the corner first, only to see Sam stab a guy a couple years younger than her through the throat with the demon knife. Something seemed off about the kill, but Tara couldn’t put her finger on it. Sam’s shotgun lay on the ground a few feet away next to another body. 

In his hand, the demon knife was covered in blood. Tara watched as Sam ran a thumb over the flat part blade and looked at it. He was facing her, but he didn’t seem to realize she was there. He watched the warm, red liquid run over his skin, but before he could bring it to his lips, he wiped it away on his jacket.

That’s when he saw Tara. Her eyes were wide, but he thought he could see relief in them. Dean appeared behind her and when he took in the bodies along with the bloody knife, he looked at him with suspicious, border-line accusatory eyes.

“No sign of Jo or Rufus anywhere.” He said softly, “You guys get the stuff?”

“Yeah.” Tara said. Dean just hefted his duffel bags.

\------

Back at the church, the four of them were working hard to try and teach the others how to load and fire the shotguns. Some of them were catching on, but others were clearly having trouble. Fortunately, Tara’s students were in the former category. The older men with full beards she was teaching had been deer hunters back in their golden years, and while the structure of the guns had changed somewhat and they admitted they weren’t as swift as before, it seemed their muscles still remembered what to do. After going over the process a couple times, they were set.

At that point, Tara started filling the empty shells Dean had pilfered with the rock salt she’d stolen. In her peripheral, she could see Sam instructing the pregnant woman and her husband. He never got impatient with them, nor did she catch him doing any mansplaining. Not that he’d ever done that to her, but seeing that trend continue gave her a tiny bit a hope that, deep down, Sam was still a good man.

Once the couple seemed to get the hang of it, Sam left them to their own devices. But rather than come over and help fill the shells, he went and sat on a bench in the corner with a somber expression on his face. Tara finished pressing the shell she was working on and joined him. Dean beat her there by less than two seconds, so she perched carefully on the end of the bench.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Sam didn’t take his eyes off the floor, his voice low.

“What’s wrong?” Dean asked the question before Tara got the chance.

“Just...back there...those demons were possessing teenagers. I mean, I had to slit some kid’s throat.”

“Come on, Sam. You had to.”

“I know. I just–it used to be...I just wish I could save people like I used to.”

“What, when you were all hopped up on demon blood?”

“I didn’t say that.” Sam protested.

“Yeah, whatever. You’re off it now and that’s what matters.” Dean got up and walked over to one of the other people–Roger–who was still apparently having trouble loading his shotgun. Sam just looked back at the floor.

“Hey.” Tara crouched down, putting her hands on his knees. She didn’t continue until he looked at her, “I know what you did. Back at the store. You had a chance to get away with a hit–as far as you knew, anyway–but you turned it away.” Sam looked away.

“Hey.” Tara reached up and gently turned his head back towards her. Sam’s eyes fluttered ever so slightly when her hand brushed his cheek, “That took real strength. I’m proud of you.” She pushed up a bit to kiss him, but Sam pulled back. In his mind, he could hear Jess’ voice saying those same words. She’d said it plenty of times during their relationship, but the last time he’d ever heard them was at that bar on Halloween over his LSAT score. Less than six hours before he’d left her to die. 

“I’ll be back.” Ellen’s voice broke into their private moment. Tara swivelled and stood, trying to act normal, like her boyfriend hadn’t just rejected a kiss from her.

“Where are you going?” Dean had been close enough to hear the older woman.

“I can’t sit here on my ass. My daughter’s out there somewhere. If I’m not back in half an hour, go. Get these people outta here.

“No, wait.” Sam stood up too, “I’m going with you.” At this point, Dean came strutting over.

“Whoa, hold on. Can I talk to you for a second?”

Tara followed the Winchesters into the little foyer at the bottom of the stairs. She could practically feel the flammable testosterone in the air, about to explode.

“You’re gonna go out there again?”

“Crap doesn’t hit the fan with coffee breaks.” Sam pointed out.

“I’ll go.”

“It’s fine. Just stay here, get ‘em ready, I’ll cover Ellen.”

“Why’s it gotta be  _ you _ ?” He asked the real question.

“Oh, that right, I forgot.” Sarcasm dripped from every word, “You think I’ll take one look at a demon and suddenly fall off the wagon as if, after everything, I haven’t learned my lesson.”

“Well, have you?” That was the spark that lit everything up. Tara had to suppress a cry of shock when Sam suddenly shoved Dean into the wall.

“If you actually think–” Sam started, his voice dangerously low. Then he looked at Tara, “Tiebreaker.” He demanded, clearly expecting her to side with him. Tara glanced at Dean. She wanted to support Sam, but there was no denying the sheer want in his eyes when he was looking at the blood earlier. And Ellen was in the dark as to what the danger signs were. 

“Why don’t I come too.” Sam scoffed.

“What, you’re siding with him now?”

“I’m not  _ siding _ with either of you! One more pair of eyes won’t hurt.” Sam narrowed his eyes.

“You mean one more pair of eyes on  _ me _ .”

“I didn’t say that!” Sam gave her a borderline bitchface, but he didn’t press the matter. He just went back into the community room to grab their shotguns.

\------

Outside, Sam and Ellen walked close together while Tara was a little farther off. That way, in case of an ambush, hopefully they wouldn’t all be pinned down.

“So where’d you see her last?” Sam asked Ellen.

“Up ahead.” She nodded towards the next intersection, “So what’s up with you and Dean?” It was clear to Tara that she wasn’t supposed to be hearing this part of the conversation, but it seemed being a cat had had some side effects. Not that she had super-hearing, but it was certainly better than before.

“What do you mean?” Sam tried to play dumb. Ellen’s head whipped towards him, her expression calling his bullshit.

“It was hard not to notice–how different things are between you guys these days. Lot of bad road there, huh? What happened? Tara come between you or something? I couldn’t help but see–”

“No, no. Tara’s good, none of this is on her. It’s just...the stresses of the job. You know how it is. Kind of surprised about you and Jo hunting. Weren’t you always saying she couldn’t hack the life?”

“She can’t.” Ellen replied bluntly, “But if she’s gonna do it anyway...”

“You wanna keep an eye on her.” Tara sent a sideways glance at Sam. He sounded almost like he was speaking from experience. Did he and Dean think  _ she _ needed supervision?

“Hey.” Sam stopped and pointed at something up ahead, but from her angle, Tara couldn’t see anything. She went over to them and spotted smoke coming from a house a few blocks away.

“Is that a chimney going?”

“Looks like it.” Sam checked to make sure Tara saw it too, “Come on.”

As they got closer, Tara saw the chimney belonged to a three-story white house. The tall hedge that surrounded the fairly large property made it a highly defensible location. There were only a few ways in, and the one that provided the most cover was around the back. It was a covered walkway along the outside of a shed. The gate to the back yard was propped open, but they stayed back.

As Tara peered around Sam, she saw a demon appear in one of the second story windows. 

“Guess we found base camp.”

“Demons don’t get cold.” Sam pointed out, “Makes you wonder what they’re burning.”

“Gee, thanks for that.” Tara was half a pace behind Sam as he stepped onto the grass. Behind them, Ellen gave a shout of surprise and before Tara could aim her shotgun, strong hands grabbed her and pinned her against the wall of the shed. Ellen was pinned next to her.

“Don’t move, you evil skank!” A female voice snarled behind them. Tara managed to turn her head enough to see that it belonged to a young blonde girl. That had to be Jo. 

To her left, Tara heard Sam grunt, and suddenly, the weight holding her against the wall lessened. Tara kicked back, catching the demon in the shin, and twisted free. Almost immediately, another demon was coming at her with her own shotgun. She’d dropped it in the commotion. Tara ducked the first swing and twirled behind the demon. Her smaller size made her much more agile. A quick blow to the backs of the knees sent the demon sprawling. Her shotgun skittered across the pavement in Sam’s direction. Sam, who was struggling to get his own weapon back when he wasn’t being beaten with it.

Tara dove for the shotgun. If just one of them could get control of their weapon they could turn the tide here. Her hands closed around the grip and the barrel and she rolled to her feet. Once she was vertical, Tara experienced a brief moment of vertigo. She’d always seen that happen in movies, but this was the first time she’d attempted it herself!

But all of Tara’s pride vanished when the shotgun was yanked from her hands. One of the two demons Sam was fighting had stopped to rip it from her. At first, Tara expected him to hit Sam with it, but the demon aimed for her instead. Tara felt her body freeze up, unable to do anything but watch the cruel butt of the shotgun come swinging towards her.

Suddenly, Sam was in front of her, grabbing her arms and shoving them both back. He grunted in pain as the shotgun clipped him. 

“Run.” He whispered to her, “Ellen, run!” He shoved Tara at the older woman an instant before a demon hit him over the back of the head. Tara screamed when she saw Sam go down, but did as she was told. Not that she had much choice. Ellen had grabbed her arm and pulled her out, back the way they came.

The two of them ran in sync step for step until they were about halfway back to the church. At that point, Tara sagged over, the guilt overwhelming.

“I screwed up. If I hadn’t frozen–”

“Hey.” Ellen’s voice was stern, “We were outnumbered and cornered. Sam knows what he’s doing. He made sure they only got one of us and not all three of us. You can beat yourself up about it later if that’ll really make you feel better, but right now, we have to get back.” She started jogging, an after taking one more breath to glance back at the house, Tara followed.

\------

When they got back, Ellen rapped on the door to the community room until they heard movement on the other side. Two seconds later, Dean opened the door.

“Where’s Sam?” He asked urgently when they came in alone. Ellen tossed her shotgun down on the table, unwilling to face Dean, “Tara?” She sucked it up and looked at Dean, hoping her eyes would say what she couldn’t find the words for. If she hadn’t been there, he wouldn’t have gotten distracted.

“They took him?” The pregnant woman–Ellie–was the first to say it, “Demons took him?” Ellen sat down and Tara leaned against the table, arms crossed and running her tongue along the outside of her front teeth.

“Oh my God.” Ellie started panicking, “What if they’re in here? The demons?”

“Could they get in?” The pastor worried.

“No.” Tara and Dean both confirmed. Dean bent down and picked up his shotgun.

“Everybody, sit tight. Tara, let’s go. We gotta–” Before he could open the community room doors and go storm the castle, he stopped and looked back. Tara hadn’t moved, Ellen still wouldn’t meet his eyes, and everyone else looked terrified that he wasn’t going to come back. Dean swore under his breath,

“Ok, we need to get a plan together.” He pulled a chair around the table for himself, and another one for Tara, “Tell me everything.” 

Ellen explained where the demon base camp was and what had happened after they got jumped. 

“Dean, one of them’s in Jo. We gotta get it out without hurting her.” Ellen scoffed, “It called me a bitch.”

“Bruise a little easy, don’t you think?”

“No, that’s not what I meant.” Ellen shook her head, “It called me a black-eyed bitch.” Tara leaned forward in her chair. She’d missed that bit, “What kind of demons are these? Holy water a salt roll right off. My daughter may be an idiot, but she’s not stupid. She wears an anti-possession charm. It’s all kind of weird, right?” 

“The whole thing’s off.”

“What’s your instinct?”

“My instinct? My instinct would be to call Bobby and ask for help–or Sam.”

“Well, tough. All we got’s each other, so let’s figure this out.” 

“Alright.” Dean agreed, “Do you know why Rufus came to town? Was there a specific omen?”

“He said something about water. That’s all I know.”

“Padre, you know what she’s talking about–the water?” The pastor came over to them.

“Uh, the river. It ran polluted all of a sudden.”

“When?”

“Last Wednesday.” Someone else joined the conversation, Austin, “And the demon thing started up the next day.” Dean and Tara shared a look. That was the night Sam had popped Lucifer’s cage.

“Anything else?” Dean pressed, “Anything.”

“Maybe, but it’s pretty random.”

“Good. Random’s good.”

“Shooting star. Does that count? Real big, same night: Wednesday.” Tara scoffed.

“Definitely counts.” Dean got up and grabbed a book from a shelf and started flipping through it.

“So, uh, you think that all this comes from outer space?” Austin was clearly amused.

“This isn’t  _ X-Files _ , pal.” Dean found the passage he was looking for and read aloud, “And there fell a great star from Heaven, burning like a torch, and it fell upon the river, and the name of the star was Wormwood. And many men died.”

“Revelation 8:10.” The pastor cited almost reflexively, “Are you saying that this is about the...Apocalypse?”

“You could say. These specific opens–they’re prelude to what?”

“The four horsemen.”

“And which one rides the red horse?”

“War.” Tara made the connection right before Dean said it.

“That cherry Mustang parked on Main?” Ellen nodded her agreement.

“You can’t think that a car–” The paster was stammering.

“It’s the way I’d roll.”

“And the shoe fits almost too perfectly.” Tara pointed out.

“I mean, think about it.” Dean stood up, “It all makes sense. If war’s a dude and he’s here, maybe he’s messing with our heads.”

“Turning us on each other.”

“You said Jo called you a black-eyed bitch. They think we’re demons, we think they’re demons, what if there are no demons at all and we’re all just killing each other?” Tara gasped.

“The teenagers. Back at the store.”

“What about them?”

“I saw Sam kill the second one. With the demon blade. There were no sparks, no flashes, no nothing. And it’s not like the thing smoked out. The body just dropped.”

“Wait, just, back up.” The paster halted the conversation, “It’s the  _ Apocalypse _ ?”

“Sorry, Padre.” Dean sat back down, “Only question now is how do we get the two sides to talk to each other?” Tara shook her head.

“I’d rather try to have a peaceful Christmas dinner with a divorced couple.”

Things went about as well as Tara expected when they tried to tell the frightened people that there weren’t actually demons in town. Austin was the most outspoken.

“So, now you’re saying that there are no demons and that war is a guy.”

“You believed crazy before.” They all jumped when someone pounded on the doors. Austin ran to answer it.

“Open up!” A voice shouted on the other side, “It’s Roger.” Only then did Tara realize that he hadn’t been there when she and Ellen got back earlier. Austin opened the door and Roger stumbled in, panting.

“I saw them. The demons. They know we’re trying to leave, they said they were gonna pick us off one by one.”

“Wait, wait, wait, what?” Dean tried to get him to slow down.

“I thought you said there  _ were _ no demons.” Austin accused Dean.

“There’s not. Where did you go?”

“I thought someone should go out and see what was going on!”

“Yeah!” Tara shouted back, “Me and Ellen! The ones who can actually load a shotgun on the first try!” Dean held an arm in front of Tara.

“Where did you see the demons and what did they say exactly?”

“We just sit here, we’re gonna be dead.” Austin didn’t even give Roger a chance to speak.

“No, we’re not!”

“They’re gonna kill us,” Roger panted, “Unless we kill them first.”

“Ok, hold on. Hold on.”

“No, man.” Austin refused, “We got people to protect. The able-bodied go and hunt some demons.” He started loading the shotguns on the table and handing them off.

“Whoa, whoa, slow you roll. This is  _ not _ a demon thing.” Tara and Dean were both keeping an eye on Roger, so they both saw him wink at Dean. Then, he twisted his wedding ring.

“Look at their eyes!” He pointed at Dean, Tara, and Ellen, “They’re demons!” By the panicked expressions on the people’s faces, they were clearly hallucinating. The pastor raised his shotgun.

“Go, go!” Dean ushered Ellen and Tara out the door. The pastor’s shot just barely missed them, creating a splatter pattern in the door as they slammed it behind them.

\------

Tara’s lungs were burning by the time they slowed from their pace from a sprint to a walk. They’d run all the way back to the ‘demon’ base camp.

“Alright.” Dean surveyed the place quickly, also slightly winded, “I see Jo and Rufus in the front room there. Looks like he just finished setting up a booby trap. I’ll go in that way, draw their attention. Ellen and Tara, you two pick a window and go in the back. I’ll take Rufus, Ellen, see if you can talk some sense into Jo.”

“What about me?” Tara asked, feeling a bit like spare baggage.

“Watch our backs in case anyone on their side tries to attack.” He crept closer to the house, right up to the tall hedge, “You guys go. I’ll count to a hundred before I set off the trap. You’ve got that long to find another way in.” Ellen nodded sharply and she and Tara jogged around to the back of the house.

Instead of going through the shed walkway again, they squirmed through the hedge itself. It looked big and intimidating, but fall was approaching and the branches were brittle so squirming through was easy. Once on the other side, Ellen pointed to the back door.

“I’ll bet you the last thing they’re expecting it for us to try and get in the easy way.” The two of them dashed across the lawn without being spotted and pressed themselves up against the door. Tara suddenly realized one of them probably should’ve been counting to a hundred in their head.

“How long do you think–” Her question was answered by an explosion on the other side of the house. Ellen reacted quickly, using the noise to cover the sound of them entering the house. They snuck around to the front room, arriving just in time to see Dean grab an African American man about Bobby’s age through the broken window. Jo started to go after him, but Ellen grabbed her and shoved her against the wall.

“Now you listen up, Joanna Beth Harvelle.” While Ellen tried to talk Jo down, Tara was glancing back and forth between the two entrances to the room. She didn’t see anyone approaching. She glanced outside where Dean had thrown Rufus to the ground. Meanwhile, Ellen wasn’t having much luck with Jo, who was still struggling. Tara lowered her shotgun.

“We can’t be demons.” She interrupted Jo’s exorcism and pulled her shirt collar down to display her tattoo. That made Jo falter.

“She’s right.” Ellen picked up where she was going with it, “Sam and Dean have that same tattoo. No one in town is possessed. It’s the Horseman, War.” As Ellen continued to speak, Jo struggled less and less.

“Mom?” She finally asked, her voice shaking a bit. Ellen threw her arms around Jo.

“I’m so glad you’re safe.” Their moment was cut off when the front door burst open. Tara had her shotgun pointed first, followed by Ellen.

“Whoa.” Dean showed that he was unarmed.

“We all on the same page?” Dean nodded, then looked over Tara’s shoulder as she lowered her weapon.

“Hi, Jo.”

“Hey.”

“I’m not on the same page.” Rufus said, his eyes on Tara, “Who’s this?”

“Tara Jones.” Rufus smiled widely.

“Good to meet ya, heard a lot about you from Bobby.”

“Not all bad I hope.”

“Ok.” Dean cut them off, “We gotta find War before everybody in this town kills each other.” Dean was cut off by gunshots. All five of them ducked as bullets–not rock salt–struck the pictures on the walls in the front room.

“Damn it! Where’s Sam?”

“Upstairs.” Rufus answered. 

“Take this.” Dean handed Rufus his shotgun. Tara was already halfway up the stairs.

They found Sam in one of the bedrooms. He was tied to a chair inside a Devil’s Trap. From the wet spot on the front of his shirt and the salt still caked to his jawline, he’d had a rough few hours.

“Guys!” He said as soon as they found him, “It’s not demons. It’s–”

“War.” Dean and Tara finished and they went on either side of Sam. Tara flipped her switchblade open and carefully cut through the bindings on Sam’s wrist.

“I just can’t figure out how he’s doing it.”

“The ring.” Sam pulled his arms free.

“That’s right!” Tara exclaimed as she moved to his ankles, “He was twisting it.”

“Yeah, right before he made them all hallucinate us going Hell bitch.” They finished cutting Sam free and Dean pulled him to his feet.

“We gotta move. Come on!” They ran back downstairs, keeping low. The barrage of gunshots hadn’t stopped, and people in the house were clearly shooting back. As they headed out the back door, they could hear Rufus shouting for people to stop.

By some stroke of luck, they made it out the back door and through the hedge without encountering any resistance. For once, Sam didn’t question where they were going as Dean led them away from the house. Probably because he’d also figured out the significance of the red mustang. 

When they got there, they saw War heading over from the church, strolling like he hadn’t caused all the violence going on less than half a mile away, not to mention the destruction around them.

“Can I?” Sam asked. Tara shrugged and looked at Dean. She didn’t mind. Dean shrugged too.

“He’s all yours, Sammy.”

Right before War reached his car, they struck. Dean and Tara each grabbed an arm, restraining him so he couldn’t twist the ring. War just laughed as Sam came to stand in front of him. He took out the knife.

“Whoa.” War was still grinning, “Ok, that’s a sweet little knife. But come on. You can’t kill war, kiddos!”

“Oh, we know.” Dean and Tara pivoted and Sam struck, pinning War’s hand to the roof of his car and slicing off his fingers. War growled as they fell to the ground along with the ring. Then all of a sudden, he was gone. And so was the mustang. While Sam and Tara looked around for any sign of him, Dean picked up the bloody ring.

“Did...did we just win?” Tara asked hesitantly.

“I think so.”

“Only one way to know for sure.”

\------

They went back to the house to find that everyone had put their weapons down and were tending to the wounded. They didn’t approach the house, but Ellen, Jo, and Rufus saw them and waved farewell.

The long hike back to the Impala was made in silence. Tara was tired, and she couldn’t stop thinking about what Sam had said to Ellen about keeping an eye on Jo. The Winchesters let her hunt with them, sure, but did they really feel like she needed the supervision? By no means was she ready to hunt solo, at least, not anything big, but she’d thought that by this point she would’ve been more of a member of the team than a trainee.

In the meantime, Sam was contemplating what War had said to him. About the demon blood. And he couldn’t deny it anymore. He may have skipped the withdrawal phase, but the addiction was still very much there. There hadn’t even been real demons in town, and he couldn’t stop thinking about it. If this is what the placebo did, how badly would the real thing affect him?

Once they got back to the Impala, they put a half-hour’s drive between them and River Pass before pulling over for food. Dean found a little rest area that had a couple picnic tables and a nice view of the surrounding forest.

“So.” He held the ring up when they finished eating, “Pit stop on Mount Doom?” Tara laughed softly. Sam smiled a bit too, but he knew what he had to do now.

“Dean–”

“Sam, let’s not.”

“No, listen. This is important. For both of you to hear.” A stone dropped in Tara’s stomach, “I know you don’t trust me. Just...now I realize something.  _ I _ don’t trust me either. From the minute I saw that blood, the only thought in my head…” He couldn't bring himself to repeat War’s words, “And I tell myself it’s for the right reasons, that my intentions are good, and it feels true, you know? But I think, underneath...I just miss the feeling. I know how messed up that sounds, which means I know how messed up I am–” Tara opened her mouth to protest, but Sam went on, “Thing is, the problem’s not the demon blood. Not really. I mean, what I did, I can’t blame the blood or Ruby or...anything. The problem’s me. How far I’ll go. There’s something in me that...scares the hell outta me. And the last couple days, I caught another glimpse.”

“So what are you saying?”

“I’m in no shape to be hunting. I need to step back cause I’m dangerous. Maybe it’s best we just...go our separate ways.” Tara tried to catch Sam’s eye. Where was he seeing her in all this? Was he telling Dean that  _ they _ would be leaving or telling  _ them _ that  _ he _ was going? Before she could ask, Dean spoke again.

“Well, I think you’re right.”

“I was expecting a fight.” Sam was taken aback.

“Truth is I spend more time worrying about you than about doing the job right. And I spend more time worrying about the job than I do about Tara these days. And I just–I can’t afford that, you know? Not now.” Sam nodded, trying to seem impassive, but Tara could see by the little wrinkles in his forehead that he was hurt by Dean’s words.

“I’m sorry.”

“We know you are, Sam.” He looked back and forth between both of them, trying to commit Tara’s features to memory before he left. He swung one leg over the bench. Tara wanted to stop him, to ask if he wanted her to come with, but she couldn’t move. It felt like everything was suddenly falling apart and part of her felt like she was to blame.

“Hey.” Dean’s voice made him stop, “You uh...you wanna take the Impala?” Tara’s breath caught in her throat and she waited for Sam’s response. 

“That’s ok.” Sam got up for real this time, “Take care of yourselves.”

“Yeah, you too, Sammy.” As he started to walk away, whatever spell holding Tara captive was broken. She got up and ran after him.

“Sam!” She was prepared to grab his arm, but he stopped and faced her, “Do...do you want me to come with you?” Sam looked like he considered it for a moment, but ultimately shook his head.

“I know you’d probably rather be with Dean.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He hadn’t said ‘hunting’, he’d said ‘with Dean’, “Sam,  _ you’re _ my boyfriend. Not Dean.”

“Am I though?”

“Yes! Look I know this past week hasn’t exactly been easy, but what indication have I ever given that I was interested in Dean?” 

“It’s–none, but–it’s just something Ruby said–”

“Oh, and she’d such an expert on how I act even though we only met like four times. Once where she beat me to a bloody pulp and another of which I killed her!” Sam hung his head.

“It was right after I escaped the panic room. I was....not in a good headspace. Her implication was one of the ways she tried to get me to sleep with her.”

“And you still believe her? Sam, I–no. I’ve never thought of Dean like that. You don’t have to go.”

“Yes, I do.” He ran his hands down her arms, “Dean isn’t the only one who doesn’t trust me, and without trust, we can’t be anything.” He tried to keep walking.

“No, Sam, wait!” Tara actually grabbed him this time, “You can’t just say something like that and then leave! Ok, maybe I was finding it a little hard to trust you, but put yourself in my shoes! You left me for another chick after explicitly telling me you were done with her and then you let Satan loose on the world!” Sam flinched and Tara took a deep breath, “But you saved me today. You took that hit and saved me from a nasty head injury. There may be a ways to go on the demon blood, but that doesn’t mean I want whatever it is we have to be over.” Sam exhaled.

“If I asked, would you come with me?” Tara seriously considered it. She knew Sam probably had no idea where he was going, what he was going to do to get by. If she went with him,  _ she _ didn’t know what she’d do to get by. Technically, she was a college dropout with no resume to her name. But she would be with Sam. 

Then her eyes fell on the Impala. If she left, Dean would be on his own with Bobby to find and kill the devil. As much as she hated copious amount of research, she wanted to help. And getting to save lives was one hell of a perk. But now it would be without Sam there.

“That’s what I thought.” Sam said softly, seeing her make the decision in her eyes.

“Why does it have to be either or?” She challenged him.

“What do you mean?”

“Come on, Sam. People do long distance relationships all the time. Yeah, I want to keep hunting, but I don’t want to lose you either.” It was Sam’s turn to consider his options.

“You realize that a lot of relationships fall apart after going long distance.” He verified.

“We’ll cross that bridge if we come to it.” She responded, her voice determined. But it wasn’t entirely up to her, “Please.” She slipped her hands into his and mimicked his puppy dog eyes as best she could. Sam bowed his head, looking down at their hands. He didn’t want it to be over between them either. He just didn’t want to cause her more heartache than he already had. But if she was truly willing to give long distance a shot…

“Alright.” He looked back up at her face, his eyes meeting hers. They flicked down to her lips briefly, and Tara heard the silent question. In response, she pulled her hands from his and wrapped them around him. As soon as she moved, Sam was bending down to kiss her. 

Tara’s eyes were closed the second their lips made contact. This was so unlike their first kiss back before they were actually together. That had been rough, fast, full of need. This one was too, but it was also slow and gentle. As if Sam thought that if he moved slowly, so would the world around them. Tara pressed her hands into Sam’s shoulders, and she felt his arms squeeze her torso in return, one hand coming up to the back of her head. When Tara broke this kiss, she was gasping for breath and they stood there for a moment, their foreheads resting together, sharing air.

“That was…”

“Long overdue.” He pulled her hair over her shoulders and buried his nose in her neck. Tara did the same, breathing in as much of him as she could.

“Call me tonight? Let me know where you are?” She voice was muffled by his skin and jacket.

“I promise.” He pulled away from her neck and kissed her again but this time, when he broke the kiss he stepped back. Because he knew if he didn’t, he’d lose his resolve to leave.

“Be safe.” 

“I promise.” She echoed, and Sam continued on to the car. Tara held onto his hand until their arms wouldn’t allow it anymore, but she didn’t follow him. She just watched as he pulled his bag from the backseat, ran a hand over the bumper, and went up to a guy getting into his pickup truck with a camper and boat attached to it. After a brief exchange of words, he got into the passengers seat and the man drove away. Tara’s eyes followed the vehicle until it went around a bend in the road, passing out of sight. That’s when she allowed the tears to fall.

“Hey.” Tara jumped, not having noticed Dean coming up behind her, “You need a minute?” Tara shook her head, quickly wiping the tears away and resisting the urge to sniffle.

“No, I’m good. Let’s hit the road. Bobby’s probably climbing the walls of that hospital room by now.”

“Alright.” Dean gave her a solid thump on the shoulder, “Good news for you, though. You just got promoted to shotgun.”

“That mean I get to control the music?”

“Hell, no!” Dean headed over to the car and Tara rolled her eyes. She’d half-expected to feed her the same line he’d fed Sam about the driver picking the music.

As she slid into the passenger’s seat, Tara tried not to think about the fact that Sam had been sitting there when they’d pulled up here. Now, their trio had split up and she didn’t really want to think about what else the future had in store for her.


	33. Long Distance

As promised, Sam called that evening a few hours before Tara and Dean stopped for the night. They were a good part of the way through the midwest, but Sam was still in Colorado and had found a place for the night. He was just planning on hitchhiking for awhile, until he found a place to stay and work.

While he never said it aloud, Tara quickly figured out that Dean preferred it if he wasn’t around when she talked to Sam. Not because their conversations veered into the X-rated category, but just because he didn’t want to have as much contact with Sam as Tara did. So until Tara knew she was going to be alone for awhile, they texted.

Sam apparently didn’t call Bobby and tell him he was taking a break from hunting because the first words out of Bobby’s mouth when they got back were to ask where the younger Winchester was.

“Why the hell didn’t you try to talk him out of it?” Bobby all but shouted after Dean explained everything.

“Because he’d already made up his mind and I agree with him! He’s a danger to everyone around him when demons are involved. This was all his idea.” Bobby groused a little more about how skilled a hunter Sam was and how the world needed all the help it could get right now, but there wasn’t much any of them could do about it.

A couple days later, Bobby was discharged from the hospital. At that point, Dean drove them all back to Sioux Falls and got him settled in his house. They converted the red sofa in the study into a bed and did what they could to make sure Bobby could be as independent as possible on his own. While they were there, Tara got a text from Sam.

_Sam: Hey. I’m in Garber, OK. Got a job at a bar so it looks like I’ll be here awhile._

_Tara: That’s great that you found a job! Dean just found a case in PA. He thinks it’s a vampire. We’re heading out first thing tomorrow._

_Sam: Ok. Talk later?_

_Tara: It’s a date._

She was hesitant to leave Bobby to his own devices to soon, but Dean was eager to have a cut-and-dry case for once.

\------

“Looks like a standard solo vamp. Perfect for your first bloodsucker case.” He explained as they pulled up to the hospital a couple days later, dressed in their fed getups. Tara scoffed softly and shook her head a bit.

“What?”

“Vampires. I mean, I know they’re real, but it’s still funny.”

“Trust me. That’ll all change once you meet one.” Dean went around to the trunk and tucked a good sized blade under his jacket. Then he offered her one.

“Are you kidding me?” Tara gestured to the dress and blue blazer she was wearing, “Where am I going to hide that?” Dean shook his head.

“I’m getting you a thigh holster for Christmas.” He slammed the trunk.

Once inside, it was easy to find the person in charge of the morgue.

“Hi, detectives Buckner and Perry.” They flashed their badges.

“Yes? How can I help you detectives?”

“We’re here about those patients–the exsanguinated ones. We’d like to take a look at the corpses.”

“Sure thing. Right this way.”

He left them to their own devices in the morgue after pointing out which freezers held the bodies in question. As soon as the door shut, Tara turned to Dean.

“You sounded so proud of yourself just now.” He gave her a look that told her he didn’t have a clue what she was talking about, “Just now. I’ll bet that’s the first time you’ve used a word that has more than a dozen letters.”

“No it’s not–” He was indignant until he saw her grin, “Shut up.” 

Figuring out who the vamp was was easy. They cross-referenced the times when the patients died with the employee records and security cam footage. The culprit was a nurse who was hired less than a week before the first kill happened. Unsurprisingly, he only worked night shifts. After asking around, Tara managed to find the bar that he frequented on the nights when he wasn’t working.

That night, they staked the place out and the vamp showed his face around midnight. Dean jumped him before he could go in, pinning him against the car.

“All yours, Hershey.” Tara raised the machete and the vampire hissed at them. Dozens of tiny teeth descended from his gums, making him look a bit like an angler fish, “Eat it, Twilight.” Dean growled at him as Tara brought the blade down hard. Blood spattered on both of them as she sawed through the vamp’s spinal column. She was careful not to swallow any of it. When the head was thoroughly separated, Dean knocked it onto the ground.

“Nice.” He dumped the body, “Let’s hit the road.”

They drove a couple towns over just in case anyone had seen them make the kill. Tara dozed most of the way, but every now and then she sensed Dean looking over at her, like he was expecting to see Sam instead of her. She’d noticed little things these past few days on the road that told her he was missing Sam in his own way. The way he’d grab three beers, instead of two, or the way he’d cram all his stuff onto the coffee table in the motel room before he remembered that no one was sleeping in the second bed. Tara was more than happy to stick to her air mattress. It was probably more comfortable than most of the beds and she knew where the sheets had been.

When they found a motel for the remainder of the night, it was almost 2am, so they both showered and crashed. Right before she went to sleep, Tara texted Sam.

 _Tara: Case over, we’re both fine. Talk tomorrow?_

He didn’t respond before she fell asleep.

\------

The vamp blood hadn’t just gotten on their faces, but on their clothes as well. So the next morning, they started scrubbing it out as best they could. Tara finished first. Since she’d been to the side, less had gotten on her. So while Dean finished up, she went over and started packing up her air mattress.

When she looked up from opening the air release valve, she noticed that she and Dean were no longer alone in the room. Castiel was standing right behind Dean, who was still at the sink. Tara started folding sheets and was about to say something when Dean caught sight of Cas in the mirror. He jumped and sagged forward.

“God! Don’t do that.”

“Hello, Dean. Hello, Tara.” Dean turned to face Cas, and suddenly there was almost no space between them. Tara’s hand froze mid-fold. The air in the room had suddenly become charged with...something. Her eyes narrowed slightly at Dean as he looked the angel up and down in a way she’d seen him do to waitresses a hundred times.

“Cas. We’ve talked about this. Personal space?”

“My apologies.” Castiel took a couple steps back and the charge in the air dissipated.

“How’d you find us?” Dean grabbed his jacket and went over to his bed, “I thought we were flying below the angel radar?”

“You are. Bobby told me where you were.” Castiel peeked into the bathroom, as if looking for something.

“Where’s Sam?”

“Us and Sam are taking separate vacations for awhile.” Dean answered shortly, “So, did you find God yet? More importantly, can I have my damn necklace back please?”

“No, I haven’t found him.” Cas admitted, “That’s why I’m here. I need your help.”

“With what, a God hunt? Not interested.”

“Not God. It’s someone else.”

“Who?” Tara finished rolling up her mattress and stood up.

“An archangel. The one who killed me.”

“Excuse me?”

“His name is Raphael.”

“You were wasted by a teenage mutant ninja angel?” 

“What, are you looking for some payback?” Tara raised an eyebrow.

“No, information. I have heard whispers that he’s walking the Earth. This is a rare opportunity.” Dean scoffed.

“So, what? You think if you can find this dude he’s just gonna spill God’s address?”

“Yes. Because _we_ are gonna trap him and interrogate him.”

“Are you kidding me? Do you remember what happened the last time you asked Dean to torture for you?”

“I assure you, this time it will go very differently. Raphael will not escape his confinement.”

“You’re serious about this.”

“Yes.”

“So what, I’m Thelma and you’re Lousie and we’re just gonna hold hands and sail off this cliff together?” Castiel’s lack of reaction made it apparent that he didn’t get the reference, but Tara did and her jaw dropped.

“Give me one good reason why we should do this.” Dean finally said.

“Because you’re Michael’s vessel, and no angel would dare harm you.” Dean turned to Cas.

“Oh, so you don’t even need _our_ help, you just wanna use me as your bullet shield.”

“I need your help because you are the only ones who will help me.” Castiel rephrased, “Please.” Tara could see Dean seriously thinking about saying yes. As far as she was concerned, she was sold. Castiel had helped them out plenty recently and she felt like it was time to start repaying the favor. When Dean looked at her for input, she nodded.

“Alright, fine.” He said, “Where is he?”

“Maine.” Castiel stood between them and raised a hand towards Tara’s forehead.

“Whoa, whoa!” Dean stopped him.

“What?”

“The last time you zapped me someplace, I didn’t poop for a week. We’re driving.”

Once they were on the road with Cas in the backseat, Tara checked her phone. 

_Sam: How’d the case go? The vamp live up to your expectations?_ She bit her lip to hide her smile.

_Tara: Not in the slightest. Wayyyy too many teeth._

_Sam: You heading back to Bobby’s?_ Tara glanced at Dean, wondering how much she should tell Sam about what they were doing. He probably wouldn’t like the idea of them trapping an archangel.

_Tara: Not yet. Dean thinks he found another case in Maine. Not sure what it is yet._

_Sam: Well let me know when you can talk, ok? My shift starts at 4 today._ He hesitated, almost adding ‘I miss hearing your voice’ to the end of his text, but decided against it. Tara replied a couple minutes later.

 _Tara: I will._

\------

They got into town too late for them to do anything about the case, and far too late to talk to Sam. Tara was a little disheartened that they hadn’t gotten the chance to call. Texting was nice, but it wasn’t the same as actually speaking to him.

On their way into town, rather than checking into a motel, Dean spotted a house for them to squat in. It was a whole new low for Tara, but she didn’t complain. She was the one who got to sleep on her air mattress while Dean tossed a sleeping bag onto the questionable-looking couch.

The next morning, Castiel insisted that their second stop should be the Waterville police station–after they swung by a Kinkos to make him an FBI badge.

“We’re here why?” Dean asked as they got out of the car.

“The deputy sheriff laid eyes on the archangel.”

“And he still has eyes?”

“What’s the plan?” Tara asked as she straightened her blazer.

“We tell the officer that he witnessed an angel of the Lord and the officer will tell us where the angel is.” He said, completely straight-faced. Tara laughed.

“Are you serious? You wanna walk in there and tell him the truth?”

“Why not?”

“Because we’re humans.” Dean fished Cas’ new badge out of his pocket, “And when humans want something, really really bad, we lie.”

“Why?”

“Because. That’s how you become President.”

“Oh my God.” Tara covered her eyes with a hand, taking a moment to compose herself before she followed Dean and Cas into the station.

“Deputy Framingham?” They found the man in the lobby talking to another officer. He turned to face them.

“Hi. Ellen Ripley, FBI. These are my partners Alonzo Mosley and Eddie Moscone.” Dean flashed his badge but Cas just stood there, staring the officer down.

“Also FBI.” Dean cued him again. Cas got out his badge and robotically flipped it open. It was upside down. Dean grabbed it and put it back in his hand the right way up.

“Agent in training.” Tara modified her statement, “Mind if we ask you a few questions?”

“Yeah, sure.” The deputy started towards his office, “Talk here, though. Hearing’s all blown to hell in this one.” He gestured to his left ear.

“That happen recently?”

“Yeah. The gas station thing. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” 

“Yes it is.” They all sat down, “Do you mind just, uh, running us through what happened?”

“Well, call came in. Disturbance out at the pump ’n go out on Route 4.”

“What kind of disturbance?” Deputy Framingham huffed.

“Would not have believed my eyes if I hadn’t seen it myself. We’re talking a riot–full scale.”

“How many?”

“Thirty, forty, in all-out kill-or-be-killed combat.”

“Any idea what set them off?”

“It’s angels and demons, probably.” Castiel said in response to Tara’s inquiry. She wanted to punch him as he spoke directly to the cop, “They’re skirmishing all over the globe.”

“Come again? What did he say?”

“Nothing.” Dean and Tara said.

“Demons.” Cas responded at the same time.

“Noth–”

“De–” Tara stomped on Cas’ foot under the desk to shut him up. He gave her a funny look.

“Demons, you know.” Dean drew the deputy’s attention, “Drink, adultery. We all have our demons, right?”

“I...guess.”

“Anyway. What happened next?”

“Freaking explosion, that’s what. Oh, they said it was one of those underground gas tanks, but, I don’t think so.”

“Who not?”

“This wasn’t your typical fireball. This was…”

“Pure white.” Cas finished.

“Yeah. Gas station was leveled. Everyone was...it was just horrible. Then I see this one guy kneeling there. Real focused-like. Not a damn scratch on him.”

“You know him?”

“Donnie Finnerman, mechanic there.”

“And lemme guess, he just, uh, vanished into thin air.”

“And you heard big invisible wings flapping.” Deputy Framingham looks at them both like they were insane.

“Um, no, Kolchak. He’s down at St. Pete’s.” Cas leaned towards them.

“St. Pete’s.”

“Thank you.” Dean deadpanned.

Sure enough, they found him at the hospital. He wasn’t physically wounded, but it didn’t seem like his mind was all there. He was sitting in a wheelchair with his back to the door. The three of them looked in through the window.

“I take it that’s not Raphael anymore.”

“Just an empty vessel.” Castiel confirmed.

“So is this what I’m looking at when Michael jumps my bones?”

“No, not at all. Michael is much more powerful. It’ll be far worse for you.”

“Just another reason to keep telling him to shove it, then.” Tara muttered, “What now? If he’s not here, where is he?”

“We can bring him here, but we’ll need supplies.” Cas said, “Meet me back at the house.” Before either of them could demand more details, Cas vanished.

“Son of a bitch.” Dean huffed.

\------

They picked up some dinner and went back to the abandoned house. Sam’s shifted started later that night, so once they were back, Tara snuck up to the room she’d slept in the night before and called him. They talked for over an hour. Somehow, she managed to avoid the topic of archangels without having to lie about what she and Dean were doing in Maine. Instead, most of the time was spent talking about one of Sam’s coworkers who was trying to get close to him.

“I tried to tell her I have a girlfriend,” Sam explained, “But she didn’t seem to want to take that for an answer. Kept insisting on having dinner.”

“Do you need me to send you a G-rated text tonight that you can ‘accidently’ leave for her to see?” Sam sighed and Tara could almost see him running a hand down his face.

“Maybe. I’ll let you know.” There was silence for a few moments. Tara wanted to ask when he was coming back, when she could see him again, but she didn’t want to push him. 

“Hershey!” Dean yelled, “Finish up your phone sex! Cas is back!” Tara groaned in annoyance.

“What?”

“It’s Dean. He’s making lewd comments. I have to go.”

“He wouldn’t be Dean if he didn’t.” Sam reminded her, “I have to get ready for work pretty soon too. I’ll tell you if I need that text.”

“I might just text you anyway.”

“I’d like that.” She could hear the gentle smile in his voice. 

“Good to know. Bye, Sam.”

“Goodbye, Tara.” She hung up after a moment’s hesitation and went downstairs to join Dean. When she got there, Castiel was sitting down. A very old jug sat on the rickety table in front of him.

“There you are.” Dean said when he saw her, “Cas, when’s this ritual of yours gotta go down?”

“Sunrise.”

“Tell me something. You keep saying we’re gonna trap this guy, but isn’t that like trying to catch a hurricane with a butterfly net?”

“No. It’s harder.”

“Do we have any chance of surviving this?”

“You do, Dean.” Cas replied, “And you should very well be able to bargain for Tara’s life in exchange for releasing him from the trap when we’re finished, but I am too valued a target in Heaven for him to let live.” Tara gasped softly. Did Cas truly believe that finding God was so strong a possibility that he was willing to die for it?

“So odds are you’re a dead man tomorrow.”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” Dean walked towards the non-working kitchen. Tara knew him well enough at this point to know he was trying to hide his face until he could school his expression into a neutral one.

“Well, last night on Earth. What, uh, what are your plans?”

“I just thought I’d sit here quietly.”

“Seriously? I mean if you want to stretch time out as much as possible, I guess, but what about something fun?”

“She’s got the right idea.” Dean pointed at Tara, “Come on, anything? Booze? Women?” Cas glanced at Dean before quickly looking away.

“You _have_ been with a woman before, right?” Dean asked the question that was on the tip of Tara’s tongue, “Or an angel at least?” Cas scratched the back of his neck almost guiltily. Dean crouched close to him.

“So that would make you the...what?...several-millennia-old virgin?”

“You mean to tell me you’ve never been up there doing a little cloud-seeding?”

“Look, I’ve never had occasion, ok?” He sounded very defensive. Dean straightened up, trying his hardest not to laugh. The confined amusement became determination as he grabbed his coat.

“Alright. Let me tell you something, there are two things that I know for certain. One: Bert and Ernie are gay. And two: you are _not_ gonna die a virgin. Not on my watch. Let’s go.” He went straight out the door with Tara on his heels after she made sure Cas was following them.

\------

Waterville, Maine was a small town but that didn’t mean it was boring. It took Dean less than twenty minutes of driving around to locate the proper establishment for their purposes. Tara got carded at the door, but once they were all inside, she let herself take it all in. The dark purple patterned wallpaper, the candlelit tables, and the long shadows that served as perfect places for a little flirting. She and Dean stopped side by side and took in the scene, eyes bouncing from one girl to the next. Just because she was with Sam didn’t mean she couldn’t look. It’s been far too long since she was in a place like this.

“I didn’t peg you for the type to swing both ways.” Dean was looking at her now. Had she said that last bit out loud?

“You should’ve seen Anna make her move on me.” Tara replied, smug.

“Wait, _what_?” 

“Relax, I didn’t take her up on it.” She laughed and went over to an empty table and slid into the booth. Dean slid in on her left while Cas sat down very stiffly on her right. The elder Winchester flagged the bartender down to order a beer.

“Anything for you two?”

“He’ll have the same.” Dean pointed at Cas.

“And I’ll take a glass of your sweetest wine.” 

“You got it.” The bartender winked at Tara and sauntered back to the bar, the sway of her hips making her beaded skirt swing invitingly. Dean gave a low whistle.

“If Sam saw that he would never have left without you.”

“Well that’s his loss, isn’t it?”

“You’re not planning on…” Dean waved a hand around the room.

“Oh, god, no. Just like he’s never going to give his flirty coworker the time of day.” Her phone chimed and she glanced at it.

_Sam: I could use that text right about now._

“Here you are.” The bartender came back with their drinks and Dean took a large gulp of his. Meanwhile, Cas continued to look terrified and out of his depth. His eyes darted around, unable to find a safe place to settle. Tara hid a smile behind a sip of wine and she relished the sweetness of it.

“Relax.” Dean finally ordered.

“This is a den of iniquity. I should not be here.”

“Dude, you full-on rebelled against Heaven. Iniquity is one of the perks.” One of the girls stopped in front of their table, “Showtime.” Dean mumbled into his beer. The girl was dressed in white lingerie that was sheer everywhere but her chest and crotch. There was a large white bow between her breasts.

“Hi. What’s you name.” She addressed Cas, but he couldn’t bring himself to look anywhere near her face. He resembled a deer in headlights. Tara grinned and shared a look with Dean. They let him suffer a little longer.

“Cas.” Dean finally said, making the angel jump badly, “His name is Cas. What’s your name?”

“Chastity.” Tara grinned.

“Chastity?” She reiterated. The girl giggled.

“Mm-hmm.” Castiel took a long drink from his beer.

“Wow. Is that Kismet or what, buddy, huh? Well, he likes you and you like him, so…dayenu.”

“Come on, baby.” Chastity slid a hand down Cas’ arm and pulled him up from the booth. He followed, looking back at them helplessly. Dean got up and handed Cas a wad of cash.

“Take this. If she asks for a credit card, no. Now just stick to the basics, ok? Do not order off the menu. Go get her, tiger.” Cas still didn’t take the money, “Don’t make me push you.” That did it. Castiel snatched the money and stiffly followed Chastity into the back. Tara laughed as the curtains closed behind him.

“What?” Dean asked.

“You put lot of faith in him by assuming he knows what’s on the menu in the first place.”

“Shut up.” Dean grabbed his drink and followed a girl decked out in black lingerie who just emerged from the back. Tara settled back into the booth, letting the leather swallow her up as she sipped her wine and pulled out her phone. She wanted her text to Sam to leave no question as to who she was, but she didn’t want to sound cheesy either.

 _Tara: Call me when your shift is over, baby. I miss you._ She deleted it. Far too needy.

 _Tara: I really enjoyed talking to you the other night. Can we do it again sometime?_ Delete. That made the relationship sound brand new.

“Hey there.” A girl slid into the booth where Dean had been sitting. Her dark green lingerie clung to her in all the right places, “You look troubled. I can take your mind off things for awhile. If you want.” She smiled coyly. Tara was sorely tempted to take her up on the offer.

“I’d love that, but I have a boyfriend.” She drew the girl’s attention to her phone, “My friend and I are just here to help a hopeless case get laid.”

“Well, if you change your mind…” Her fingers danced over Tara’s forearm, “My name’s Spring. And your boyfriend can always join in from afar, for a little extra of course.” 

“I’ll be sure to do that.” Spring gave her another coy smile and slunk towards the back. Tara shook her head and texted Sam.

 _Tara: Someone just tried to pick me up. Wish you were here.”_ After a moment’s hesitation, she added a heart to the end of the message.

As soon as she hit send, a loud shriek came from the back. She and Dean met eyes across the room and he bolted through the velvet curtains. Tara got up and followed, but not before she chugged the rest of her drink. Good sweet wine was a rare thing in her life now.

In the back, there were couples peeking out of every room, looking on as Chastity shouted at Castiel.

“Leave me alone! Bastard! Screw you, jerk!” She threw something at him, “I’ll kill you!” She stormed towards them, “Screw you too! God!” Tara watched in shock as Chastity retreated to another room.

“What the hell did you do?!” Dean demanded.

“I don’t know.” Castiel seemed genuinely confused., “I just looked her in the eyes and told her it wasn’t her fault that her father, Gene, ran off.” Tara covered her mouth and shook her head, “It’s because he hated his job at the post office.” Dean cringed.

“Oh, no, man.”

“What?”

“This whole industry _runs_ on absent fathers. It’s the natural order.” He looked back to where Chastity had gone only to see two very buff guys come through the curtains.

“We should go.” Dean grabbed Cas by the arm and started dragging him towards the exit. Tara needed no such encouragment to hurry after them, even as the bouncers called for them to stop.

As they ran down the narrow stairs of the fire escape, Dean started giggling, which in turn set her off as the wine was starting to hit her. By the time they made it out the door and into the alley, they were both laughing hysterically. Tara couldn’t believe that an _angel_ had gotten them kicked out. Dean slammed the door behind them and looked back up to the third story where the bar was. Tara leaned against the wall for support as she giggled uncontrollably. Castiel gave them both strange looks.

“What’s so funny?” That only made Dean laugh more and he wrapped an arm around Cas’ shoulders.

“Oh, nothing. Whew.” He started walking, so Tara peeled herself away from the wall and followed.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve laughed that hard.” It was much the same for Tara. As her giggles subsides, she found that her abs were actually _hurting_!

“It’s been more than a long time.” Dean went on as he opened the car door, “ _Years_.”

\------

Despite it being very late and her needing to get up in less than five hours, Tara couldn’t sleep. She tossed and turned on her mattress. It creaked and groaned with every move, the smooth material of the bottom rubbing against the floor. She wanted to be hunting, ideally with Dean because her alternative was striking off on her own, but it felt like at every turn, he was either pretending she wasn’t his brother’s girlfriend and wanting no second degree contact with Sam or he was actively making remarks about how much fun he was having now that Sam wasn’t with them. The lewd comments he made while she was on the phone with Sam were the only times she felt like he wasn’t being actively anti-Sam but even then, it was humor at their expense. And ever since Cas had joined up with them, she’d been feeling more and more like a third wheel. She’d even been demoted to the back seat today and everything! They didn’t even really need her for the ritual tomorrow either. Dean was the one Cas needed, she was just coming along as extra baggage with nothing to contribute. Even on that vamp hunt, everything would’ve been fine. Dean let her have the kill but he could’ve just as easily handled it himself.

She flipped her pillow over to the cold side. At least when Sam was with them, it had felt like a team instead of a dictatorship. Tara checked her phone. Still no response from him about her text. Her heart sank a little more and she curled up in a ball and shut her eyes, determined to get at least some rest before tomorrow.

\------

Sam laid awake in bed, tears streaming down his face. Was Jess right? Well, he knew it wasn’t _really_ Jess, no matter what she might have said. But seeing her again, hearing her voice tore those old wounds wide open.

“Baby, the people closest to you die.” He heard her words over and over again, “And you won’t be able to protect her any better than you protected me.” Sam had tried to deny it. Things were different now because Tara was a hunter. She knew how to protect herself.

“Same song, different verse.” He heard Jess almost as clearly as he had in the dream, “Things are never gonna change with you.” Sam grabbed his phone and opened the text from Tara.

_Tara: Someone just tried to pick me up. Wish you were here._

It had served its purpose to get Lindsay to stop flirting with him halfway through their awkward dinner. He hadn’t replied yet, but he wanted to ask. Who had tried to pick her up? Was he good looking? If they hadn’t been together, would she have accepted? 

One thing certainly hadn’t changed about Sam. He still loved Jessica. The dream had made that clear enough. The way his heart clenched when he saw her, how his stomach leapt when she took his hand. There was no denying that those feelings were still there.

Did that mean he was being unfair to Tara? Was he trying to use her merely as a replacement for Jess? That’s certainly what it felt like. He cared deeply for Tara, yes, but those feelings felt so small next to his emotions about Jess. And was Jess right? By staying with Tara, was he dooming her to die?

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Couple things for y'all. My spring semester starts on Tuesday, so updates may be a little slower while I get back in college mode.  
> Secondly, and more importantly, I feel the need to let you know that I don't write smut. I don't have anything against it and I certainly read it, it's just something I've never written in the several years that I've been writing fanfiction. That being said, if one of you–or someone you know–would be interested in writing smut, let me know in the comments or shoot me a DM! I'm interested in having smut be a part in this fic.


	34. The Future

When her alarm went off before the sun came up, Tara wanted nothing more than to turn it off, roll over, and go back to sleep. She got up and packed her things instead. No matter what happened today, they didn’t plan on spending another night here. Downstairs, Dean was yawning and Cas was pouring the oil in a large circle that took up most of the kitchen and some of the living room.

“Wait, I thought we were doing this at the hospital?” She rubbed her eyes.

“We are. I believe you would call this ‘plan B’.” Castiel finished the circle and tucked the jug of oil into his coat.

“Well, what are we waiting for then?” Dean started towards the door, “Let’s get this show on the road.” He yawned again, prompting Tara to do the same, “But coffee first.”

Tara could barely keep her eyes open in the car on the way to the hospital. The coffee that was singeing her tongue with every sip hadn’t kicked in yet and Dean didn’t have any music on, rather his eyes were laser-focused on the road, save for a couple furtive glances at Cas.

When they got to the hospital, Dean had to sweet-talk front desk staff into letting them in before official visiting hours but after that, they were good to go. When they reached Donnie Finnerman’s room, Tara shut the blinds and Dean disabled the smoke detectors while Cas poured the oil in a wide circle around the wheelchair.

“Ok, what’s the deal with the oil again?” Dean asked, fidgeting with his jacket.

“When the oil burns, no angel can touch or pass through the flames or he dies.”

“So we trap him in a steel cage of holy fire, but one question. How the Hell do we get him here?”

“There’s, well, almost an open phone line between a vessel and his angel. One just has to know how to dial.” Cas put the jug down on the window sill and reentered the circle, crouching beside the wheelchair. Then, he said something in another language that Tara didn’t know.

“I’m here, Raphael.” He switched to English, “Come and get me you little bastard.” Tara raised her eyebrows at the vulgar language and it occurred to her that this was the first time she’d actually heard an angel swear. Cas exited the circle of oil.

“Just out of curiosity, what is the average wait time to speak to an archangel?” 

“Be ready.” Castiel struck a match and threw it down on the oil. Almost instantly, the flames spread around the entire circumference, throwing shadows around the room.

\------

At first, Tara’s heart was pounding. Any moment, she was expecting the figure in the wheelchair to move, speak, acknowledge them in some way, but he never did. As the minutes ticked by, Tara found herself starting to relax a bit as she was able to get her heart rate down. Every now and then, one of them would refresh the oil to keep the circle closed, but other than that, the day was uneventful. After the first hour or so, the day began to drag, but they couldn’t afford to let their guard down. Occasionally, words were exchanged. After Dean raised concerns about the open phone line and Michael hearing all their plans through him, Castiel reassured him that it only took hold after possession, and the archangel couldn’t just casually spy on their vessels. Someone had to call them up.

After the sun went down, it became clear that Raphael wasn’t going to show his face so they cleaned up the oil and left the hospital. Dean was grouchy and quiet on the drive back to the house.

“Well, that’s a day I’ll never get back.” He remarked as he parked in the driveway. Tara hauled herself out of the back seat, somehow more tired than when she got up. She had totally forgotten about their plan B until Cas pushed to be first through the front door.

“Dean, Tara, wait.” Before Tara could ask why, blue light erupted from a figure standing in the kitchen. Bolts of electricity sprouted from his back, jumping from one surface to another. All the light fixtures began to throw sparks of their own and a sharp electric tang filled Tara’s nose, vaguely reminding her of ozone. 

Just as suddenly as the lighting had begun, it faded; leaving them in darkness.

“Castiel.” 

“Raphael.” They walked into the living room. Tara wasn’t sure if it was a conscious decision on Dean’s part, but he positioned himself in front of her.

“I mean, I thought you were supposed to be impressive.” He mocked, “All you do is black out the room?”

“And the eastern seaboard.” Thunder crashed outside. When they’d pulled up to the house, there hadn’t been a cloud in the sky, “It is a testament to my unending mercy that I don’t smite you here and now.”

“Or maybe you’re full of crap.” Tara shifted her gaze to Dean. Had he forgotten that the oil wasn’t lit yet?! “Maybe you’re afraid that God’ll bring Cas back to life again and smite  _ you _ , you candy-ass skirt. By the way, hi. I’m Dean.”

“I know who you are. Just as I know the girl cowering in your shadow is Tara, but she is insignificant. And thanks to  _ him _ ,” Raphael nodded at Cas, completely ignoring Tara’s noise of indignance, “I know  _ where _ you are.”

“You won’t kill them.” Cas interjected, “You wouldn’t dare.”

“But I will take him to Michael and ensure that someone very special to her falls to Hell as a result of her transgressions.” Tara gasped. He had to be referring to Dylan.

“It is the duty of angels to guard the souls in Heaven.” Cas called Raphael’s bluff, “Not hold them as hostages.”

“Perhaps, given the circumstances, Michael will be persuaded to make an exception.” 

“Well, that...sounds terrifying.” Dean stalked over to the other side of the room, “It does. But I hate to tell ya...I’m not going anywhere with you.” He picked up a bottle of whiskey that had somehow remained intact. He turned around and took a long drink. Even in the darkness of the room, Tara could see how scared he actually was. For this to work, they needed Raphael to step  _ into _ the circle of oil and he was remaining tantalizingly beyond the line. She shoved a hand in her jacket pocket, turning the box of matches over in her hand.

“Surely you remember Zachariah giving you stomach cancer?” Raphael turned to Tara, “Or rupturing your appendix?”

“Yeah, that was hilarious.” Dean tried to play it off.

“Yes, well. He doesn’t have anything close to my imagination.” The archangel started forward. Tara knew he meant it to be threatening, but it had the opposite effect once he stepped inside the circle.

“Oh, yeah?” Dean taunted, “I bet you didn’t imagine one thing.”

“What?”

“We knew you were coming, you stupid son of a bitch.” When he said that, he stepped out of Tara’s way while she struck a match and threw it down on the oil. Before Raphael could flee, the flames had spread around the entire circle, leaping nearly two feet in height. Even at this distance, Tara could feel the heat of it on her face. Thunder continued to crash and boom outside as Raphael fixed them both with a withering glare.

“Hey, don’t look at us, it was his idea.” Castiel looked at Dean, eyes wide in betrayal, but he contained the emotion quickly.

“Where is he?”

“God? Didn’t you hear? He’s dead, Castiel. Dead.” The pessimistic part of Tara had been expecting something along those lines, but she couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for Cas, who had put so much stock in finding him, “There’s no other explanation. He’s gone for good.”

“You’re lying.” Castiel bristled.

“Am I? Do you remember the 20th century? You think the 21st is going any better? You think God would’ve let any of that happen if he were alive?”  _ That _ got her attention. Raphael didn’t know for sure that God was dead, but that was what he was telling himself to justify all the bad that had been happening. It made him sound almost...human. 

“Oh yeah? Well then who invented the Chinese basket trick?” Dean sassed.

“Careful. That’s my father you’re talking about, boy.”

“Yeah, who would be so proud to know that his sons started the friggin’ Apocalypse.”

“Who ran off and disappeared. Who left no instructions and a world to run.” Now the archangel just sounded like a whiny child.

“So daddy an away and disappeared?” Dean sounded just as unimpressed, “He didn’t happen to work for the post office, did he?” Tara couldn’t hold back a giggle. 

“This is funny to you? You’re living in a godless universe.”

“Yeah, thanks for the newsflash. There are a lot of people out there who already know that.”

“But that doesn’t excuse you and the other kids just deciding to throw an Apocalypse while he’s gone!”

“We’re tired. We just want it to be over. We just want...paradise.” The way he said it made Tara’s skin crawl. She had a feeling Raphael’s version of paradise was very different from her own.

“So, what? God dies and makes you the boss and you think you can do whatever you want?”

“Yes. And whatever we want we get!” Raphael finally lost his temper. Despite him being good and trapped, all the windows in the living room shattered. Tara raised her arms to protect her face and she felt glass pelt the canvas material. Rain came blowing in, soaking all three of them.

“If God is dead, why have I returned?” Castiel yelled over the storm, “Who brought me back?”

“Did it ever occur to you that maybe Lucifer raised you?”

“No.” The denial was instantaneous.

“Think about it. He needs all the rebellious angels he can find. You know it adds up.” None of them could find a suitable rebuttal for that.

“Let’s go.” Castiel said to them. He started for the door. 

“Castiel. I’m warning you. Do not leave me here.” Tara could see the angel hesitate, “I will find you.”

“Maybe one day. But today, you’re my little bitch.” A smile crept its way onto Tara’s face. They would rub off on him yet. She retreated with Cas, flipping Raphael off as she went, but Dean paused.

“What he said.”

\------

“Who was Raphael referring to?” Castiel broke the silence in the car. They were a few hours out from Waterville and Dean had finally deemed it safe enough to stop. Well, that and Baby was running on fumes. He’d gone inside to get some snacks while Tara and Cas stayed in the car.

“What do you mean?”

“The soul in Heaven that he was threatening. Raphael would not have done so unless he was certain that it would make you obey him.”

“But you called his bluff.” Her hand closed around the marble, “He  _ was _ bluffing, right?”

“Yes. It is not within his power to cast any soul already in Heaven into the Pit.” Silence fell once more in the car and Tara allowed relief to wash over her.

“His name was Dylan. He...passed over a year ago now.”

“Dylan Holt?” Her eyes shot up to Cas’ in the rearview mirror.

“Yeah. H-how did you know?”

“When we first met, I recognized you.” Cas said, “Though I was not sure why. I knew I had never met you before. But before I was sent to rescue Dean from Hell, I often frequented the heavens of various souls.”

“Sorry, did you say ‘heavens’? Like, plural?”

“Yes. Each soul, it generates its own paradise. Dylan’s consists heavily of happy memories with you.”

“I got the goods!” Dean announced as he slid back into the car. Tara fought to put on a neutral expression as she accepted the plastic bag, “They didn’t have peanut M&M’s, Hershey, so I got you normal ones.”

“Thanks.” Somehow, the brunette kept her voice from shaking as she stashed the bag at her feet. Dean didn’t turn the music back on as he pulled out onto the highway, so Tara swallowed hard and buried the emotions Cas had stirred up. Cas, who remained still as a statue in the front seat, his eyes never wavering from the road.

“Hey, man, you ok?” Dean finally asked. He scoffed at the angel’s lack of response, “Look, I’ll be the first to tell you this little crusade of yours is nuts, but I do know I a little something about missing fathers.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean there were times when I was looking for my dad when all logic said that he was dead. But I knew, in my heart, that he was still alive. Who cares what some ninja turtle says, Cas? What do you believe?”

“I believe he’s out there.”

“Good. Then go find him.” They looked at each other, and even through her own inner turmoil, Tara could feel her queer-sense tingling.

“What about you two?” Cas finally asked.

“What about us? Well, I dunno about Tara, but I’m good. Honestly. I can’t believe I’m saying that, but I am. I’m...I’m really good.”

“Even without your brother?”

“Especially without my brother.” Tara flinched, “I mean, I spent so much time worrying about the son of a bitch. I mean, I’ve had more fun with you and Hershey in the past twenty four hours than I’ve had with Sam in years. And you’re not that much fun.” Dean glanced at her over his shoulder, “You’re plenty of fun. Your boyfriend’s just a buzzkill when it comes to outings like last night’s.” Tara managed a tight smile that Dean bought thanks to the inconsistency of the highway lighting.

“It’s funny, you know, I’ve been so chained to my family. But now that I’m alone...hell, I’m happy.” Dean didn’t see Cas vanish right after he said that, but Tara did. And she wished she could do the same. Dean’s whole speech just now only cemented her thoughts from last night.

She opened her text conversation with Sam. He still hadn’t replied to her text from last night and, now that the drama with Raphael was over, it was worrying her. She wanted to call him, but apparently Dean didn’t feel like finding a real motel for the night. Not long after Cas left, he pulled into a rest area and laid down in the front seat with little more than a grumbled ‘good night’.

\------

It wasn’t until brunch the next day that Tara tried to call Sam. As soon as Dean vanished to the bathroom–although the more likely case was he was hooking up with their waitress out back–she was dialing his number. She held the phone up to her ear, pushing her eggs around her plate as she listened to it ring. 

“It’s Sam. Leave me a message.” The high pitched beep made Tara flinch a bit.

“Hey, babe. I, um, I didn’t hear from you yesterday.” Great. Now she sounded like a crazy possessive bitch, “Not-not that I’m mad at you or anything, I’m not, I just wanted to–I missed you.” Fuck. Now she sounded pathetic, “So, um, can you give me a call when you get this? There’s something I–” Dean came sauntering back into sight, “Damnit.” She hung up quickly and put her phone away.

“Got wind of a case a few states over. Am I interrupting something?” Dean obviously meant the question to be rhetorical, but Tara snapped and all the feelings she’d been repressing boiled over onto the table.

“Yeah, you were.” The Winchester’s eyes grew wide at her hostility, “I was calling Sam but I hung up because you’ve made it more than clear that you don’t want anything to do with him and little more to do with me.”

“Now what gave you that impression?” He sounded legitimately confused.

“‘Now that I’m alone, hell, I’m happy’?” She quoted his words to Cas, “You call hunting with me being alone?”

“That’s not what I meant. I just meant–”

“Yeah, I know what you meant but that’s not the way you came across. You basically just drag me around like a suitcase until you want me to make some kill and I know I haven’t been a hunter as long as you have, but I’m getting a little sick of being treated like a subordinate. And any time I’m in contact with Sam, you’re either being inappropriate or scorning his existence. If you wanna make dirty comments, then go ahead, but then you can’t pretend that I’m not in a relationship with him the rest of the time. You can’t have it both ways.”

“Tara–”

“I’m not done. You’re not the only one here who worried about Sam. I had to watch him agonize over keeping the secret about the demon blood from you and see him succumb to the withdrawal long before you realized what it was.”

“And whose fault is it that I didn’t know what it was? You had to know that drinking  _ demon blood _ was a bad thing. You want to know why I’m in charge of this operation? It’s because I’ve been doing this since before I was a teenager and you haven’t been in the life for a year yet.” Tara opened her mouth to protest that last fact, but realized that Dean indeed had a point. It was only the middle of October, and she hadn’t officially begun her training as a *human* hunter until after Halloween. But that didn’t change the fact that she didn’t like Dean speaking to her that way.

“At least when we were all hunting together, we were a team. Now you’re just bossing me around and my relationship with Sam only exists when it becomes convenient for your sense of humor and I’m done. We’re not going on that case a few states over.” She said instead, “You’re dropping me back at Bobby’s or I will hitchhike back to South Dakota myself.” Dean huffed.

“Tara, there’s no need for–”

“No! Until you can start treating me like I’m on equal ground and not some kid, I’m done hunting with you.” Dean fixed her with a pleading look, like he was trying to mimic Sam’s puppy dog eyes, but they didn’t work for him the same way they did for Sam. When Tara didn’t cave, Dean sighed.

“We can probably make Kansas City tonight and then do the long haul back to Bobby’s tomorrow.” Tara nodded curtly.

“Thanks.”

“For?”

“Respecting my decision.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He finished stuffing his waffles in his mouth.

\------

Just as Dean had guessed, they made it to Kansas City just after midnight. The city was still very much awake, but Tara was beat and Dean was obviously tired too. He pulled up in front of a hotel on the outskirts of town. There were a few people out and about and all of them were avoiding contact with a man pacing in front of the hotel entrance, waving flyers around to every passerby. She put her head down as she got out of the car and headed straight for the entrance. Dean was right behind her.

“Excuse me, friends.” The man stepped in front of them, “But have you taken time out to think about God’s plan for you?” Tara kept going, pointedly avoiding anything close to eye contact, but Dean paused a moment.

“Too friggin’ much, pal.” He followed her into the motel.

Dean’s phone rang while Tara was halfway through blowing up her air mattress. She switched off the pump and he answered the phone.

“What’s up, Cas?” Dean went over to the windows and started closing the curtains. Tara could hear Castiel speaking, but failed to make out any words.

“We’re talking about the Colt, right? I mean, as in  _ the _ Colt?”

“Put him on speaker.” Tara requested.

“Well, that doesn’t make any sense. Why would the demons keep a gun around that, uh, kills demons?” Tara snuck up on Dean while he was shutting the last of the curtains. In one quick motion, she snatched the phone from his hand and put it on speaker.

“What?” Castiel sounded like he was shouting, “I didn’t–I didn’t catch that.” Dean laughed despite his minor annoyance at Tara.

“You know, it’s kinda funny. Talking to a messenger of God on a cellphone. It’s, you know, like watching a Hell’s Angel ride a mo-ped.”

“This isn’t funny, Dean. The voice says I’m almost out of minutes.”

“Ok, alright. Look, I’m telling you, Cas. The mooks have melted down the gun by now.”

“Well, I hear differently. And if it’s true and if you are still set on the insane task of killing the devil, this is how we do it.” Tara and Dean shared a look. Tara wanted to help Cas out again, but she could see that Dean wanted to do the same thing. She crossed her arms and started tapping her foot. She was willing to put aside their differences and work  _ with  _ him, but only if he agreed. Dean narrowed his eyes slightly.

“We’ll discuss this later.” He mouthed.

“Where do we start?” Tara spoke directly to the angel.

“Where are you now?”

“Kansas City.” Dean answered, grabbing the room key off the nightstand, “Century Hotel, Room 113.”

“I’ll be there immediately.” Tara shook her head. She hadn’t gotten any sleep in the car today and she knew Dean was just as exhausted.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” He protested, “No, come on, man. I just drove like 16 hours straight, ok? I’m human. There’s stuff I gotta do.”

“What stuff?”

“Eat, for example. In this case, sleep. I just need like four hours once in a while ok?”

“Yes.”

“Great. You can come tomorrow morning.” Tara yawned.

“Yes. I’ll just–” But Dean had already hung up.

“You sure about this?” He asked her, “I thought you were done hunting with me.”

“Look,” Tara started the pump up again, “I’m not going to let the world end because we couldn’t get along. But you also need to start treating me like a teammate.”

“Deal.”

At first, Tara wasn’t sure what woke her up, but then it came again. The soft, yet persistent vibration of a cellphone on a hard surface. It wasn’t hers. Her hand fumbled with the device on the floor enough to make sure of that. On his bed, Dean groaned.

“Damnit, Cas. I need to  _ sleep _ !” Tara rolled over, about to press her pillow over her head, but Dean sat upright in bed.

“Sam?” Tara stifled a gasp, “It’s quarter past four.” Dean complained. Whatever Sam’s response was had Dean waving Tara over. She grumbled inwardly, but dragged her blanket with her for the warmth. Once she settled on the bed, Dean put Sam on speaker.

“Ok, Tara’s here. Go ahead.”

When Sam got done explaining everything, from Lucifer visiting him in his dreams in the form of Jessica to Sam being Satan’s ‘true vessel’ like Dean was for Michael, the elder Winchester wasn’t the only one who felt the need for a drink.

“So you’re his vessel, huh?” Dean was mildly surprised when Tara accepted the beer and used her nightshirt to twist the cap off, “Lucifer’s wearing you to the prom?”

“That’s what he said.”

“Just when you thought you were out, they pull you back in huh, Sammy?”

“So that’s it? That’s you response?” Tara was equally surprised by Dean’s nonchalance about the situation.

“What are you looking for?”

“I don’t know. A little panic maybe?”

“Well I guess I’m just a little numb from the Earth-shattering revelations at this point.”

“What are we gonna do about it?”

“He still needs you consent to possess you, right?” Tara checked.

“A fallen angel’s still an angel in that respect, I guess.”

“What do  _ you _ wanna do about it?” Dean turned Sam’s question back on him.

“I want back in for starters.” Tara’s spirits leapt at the prospect, but Dean was much less enthusiastic.

“Sam–”

“I mean it. I am sick of being a puppet to these sons of bitches. I’m gonna hunt him down, Dean.”

“Oh, so we’re back to revenge then, are we? Yeah, cause that worked out so well last time.”

“Not revenge.” Sam corrected, “Redemption.”

“So what, you’re just gonna walk back in and we’re gonna be the Three Muskateers again?”

“Look, Dean, I can do this. I can. I’m gonna prove it to you.”

“Where are you?” Tara asked, “We’ll come meet you in the morning.”

“No. Look Sam, it doesn’t matter, whatever we do.” Dean plopped down in the armchair in the corner of the room, “I mean, it turns out that you and me, we’re the, uh, fire and oil of Armageddon. You know, on that basis alone, we should just pick a hemisphere. Stay away from each other for good.” The longer Dean went on, the more Tara’s stomach soured.

“Dean, it doesn’t have to be like this. We can fight it.”

“Yeah, you’re right, we can. But not together. We’re not stronger when we’re together, Sam. I think we’re weaker.” Tara opened the valve to let the air out of her mattress. She was still tired, but if Sam was getting back into the life, she sure as hell wasn’t sticking with Dean.

“Because whatever we have between us; love, family, whatever that is, they are  _ always _ gonna use it against us. And you know that. We’re better off apart. And it’s the same with you and Tara.”

“Hey!” She pointed an accusatory finger at Dean, “That is  _ not _ your call to make.” 

“Give Tara the phone.” Sam said.

“Lemme finish. We’ve got a better chance of dodging Lucifer and Michael and this whole damn thing if we just go our own ways.”

“Dean, don’t do this.”

“Bye, Sam.” He took Sam off speaker and handed the phone to Tara. Then, he went into the bathroom to give her privacy.

“Sam, where are you?”

“Just south of Wichita. But Tara–”

“We’re in Kansas City, I’ll meet you in Topeka.”

“Tara, I don’t think–”

“Listen. I can’t stay with Dean, not when I know you’re back hunting again. Please.” She heard Sam sigh. Even over the phone, she could tell it was one of the ones he let out through his nose.

“Alright. I’ll see you in a couple hours.”

\------

After packing all her things, Tara went prowling around the streets of Kansas City. She didn’t have to go far before she found a little dark blue Prius that was in good condition. She stole plates off a minivan, fixed them to the Prius, and was on her way. Dean was waiting for her back at the hotel when she swung by to collect her bags, but instead of making one last ditch effort to talk her out of meeting up with Sam, he didn’t say a word to her. By five am, she was out of Kansas City heading west on the highway.

An hour and a half later, Tara pulled into the Rosewood Motel. Sam had texted her the address a little bit ago and when she scanned the parking lot, she spotted him easily. Butterflies materialized in her stomach at the sight of him leaning against his own stolen vehicle. She parked her car hastily, barely remembering to turn the engine off before she got out and ran over to her boyfriend.

“Sam!” She took him off guard when she leapt into him, immediately leaning up to kiss him. Sam inhaled sharply when he felt her warm, soft body melt against him. His hands came up to clasp either side of her face as he pushed back into the kiss but he only let himself enjoy it for a few moments.

“Tara.” He murmured when he broke the kiss. He needed to tell her now and get it off his chest because he knew if he didn’t do it now, he never would. But he felt too exposed out here, with sunrise less than an hour away. He led her to the room he’d gotten, letting go of her hand once the door was closed behind them. 

“I missed you.” She said softly. Sam looked at her with his most heartbreaking eyes yet. In fact, she could see tears glistening in those hazel orbs.

“Tara, I’m sorry.”

“For what?” She tried to approach him, but Sam backed away. He’d spent the whole drive here agonizing about how to say this, and he’d come up with a pretty good speech, but now that the moment was here, all the preparation went out the window.

“I’ve been so unfair to you.” The words rushed out, “I thought this could work, and I wanted it to. I really did. But seeing Jess reminded me how much I loved her, how much I still love her, and how badly it hurt when Yellow Eyes murdered her. I can’t go through that again with you and it’s not fair for me to lead you on like this. Not that I don’t care for you, I care a lot about you. That’s why I can’t keep hurting you and I can’t lose you like I lost her.” His monologue stunned Tara into a temporary silence. A silence filled only by Sam’s heavy breathing.

“What are you saying?” She finally asked, “You’re breaking up with me because you think that’ll somehow save me?”

“Well, that’s one reason, yeah.” Tara shook her head.

“Sam, I know you mean well here, but like I told you before: I’m in this life now. My fate is not determined by whether or not we’re together. Hell, since the last time I saw you I came face to face with an archangel!”

“Wait, hold up.” Sam’s hands went to his hips, “When did this happen?”

“A couple days ago.” Tara waved him off, “It’s fine. Cas just wanted some info out of him. Point is, us being together has no correlation with the amount of danger I’m in. As long as we care about each other, it won’t make a difference.” Sam bowed his head and Tara knew she’d won that point in the debate.

“Ok, that was one reason, but not the main one.” He admitted, “That’s–”

“Jess.” She interrupted as gently as she could, “I know. You still love her.”

“And I don’t want you to feel like a replacement for her because I can’t stop loving her.”

“I don’t, Sam. I don’t feel like a replacement. And I don’t want you to stop loving her.”

“What?” That was the  _ last _ thing he’d expected her to say.

“Sam, you were ready to marry her. I get it. A part of you will always love her just like a part of me will always love Dylan, and I know that will never go away. Why do you think I still wear this marble? But I trust that you have room in your heart for me next to her memory. All I ask is that you accept that the same is true with me. If you want to call it quits here, then you can, but I still want this to work.” She took a couple cautious steps towards Sam, like she was approaching a spooked horse. Unlike before, he didn’t back away. Tara’s heart thundered in her chest as she reached for him, but kept herself from touching him.

Sam looked down at her outstretched hand. He wanted this to work. He wanted it so bad. He’d had every intention of ending things, had a full-proof argument, but somehow she had punched holes in each and every one of his points. He doubted his pre-law professors would be very proud of his failure to cross-examine her counterpoints thoroughly, but somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to care. He’d never expected to have a chance like this again, with someone who wasn’t only in the life, but understood the kind of pain he had gone through with Jess. He knew things couldn’t possibly end well with him being Lucifer’s intended vessel, but having Tara by his side would just give him one more huge reason to keep saying no every time the devil came knocking. 

He suddenly realized that he’d been staring at Tara’s hand for a solid five seconds, and that she was growing very fidgety.

“Ok. It’s fine, I get it, I’m sorry, I–” Tara started to withdraw her hand, the heat of embarrassment flooding her limbs, but before she could pull back completely, Sam grabbed her forearm and yanked her against him. Tara squealed when she collided with his chest and he quickly muffled the noise with his lips.

Tingles shot through her body at the contact and with her free hand, Tara reached up and tangled her fingers into Sam’s soft hair. He didn’t even try to suppress a groan at the sensation and swept his tongue across her lips as a response. Tara gasped, inadvertently letting him in. 

Sam took his time exploring the interior of her mouth while she clung to him, her grip on his hair growing tighter. At one point, Tara fought back, pushing against his tongue and challenging Sam for dominance. He retaliated by running his tongue along the roof of her mouth, making her pull back with a shudder and a whine. They were both panting hard.

“I take it we’re not breaking up?” Tara’s words were more breath than voice. She combed his hair back with both hands, her long nails scratching his scalp in a way that made chills of pleasure run down his spine.

“Hell, no.” He brushed her own hair out of her face and bent down to kiss her again, this time backing up with a very deliberate destination in mind. Tara sensed his intentions and followed him eagerly. When the backs of Sam’s knees hit the edge of the bed, the shorter brunette gave him one solid push, sending them down onto the thin mattress. Tara was quick to attach her lips to his neck, nibbling at his pulse point. Sam’s hands crept beneath her flannel shirt and up her back. Even through the cotton of the tank she had on underneath it, he could feel the warmth of her skin.

Tara inhaled sharply when Sam rolled them over, settling with his elbows on either side of her, and kissed her again. Her legs fell open so he could slot between them and her hands migrated from his hair to the snaps of his flannel.

“Wait.” He stopped her with the last whisps of rational thought that remained in his head, his pupils blown wide with lust, “Are you sure?” Tara nodded, chest heaving as she tried to make her mouth form words.

“Yeah.” She moved her hand from his snaps to cup his face, stroking his cheek with her thumb. He leaned into her touch, eyelids fluttering, but never closing. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

\------

Sam cradled Tara against him as they both dozed. Once the contraception had been disposed of, they’d crawled under the covers of the other bed to bask in the afterglow. Tara rested her head on his chest, her right leg slung over his. One hand was squished between their bodies and the other laid on his tattoo, occasionally tracing the star and flames. Sam’s right arm wrapped around her back, his hand gently rubbing the curve of her hip while his left rested on her neck, right between a pair of dark marks his lips had left behind. Every time Sam drifted into consciousness, he would press a kiss to the top of her head, prompting Tara to snuggle closer to him. 

It was the most restful sleep either of them had gotten these past few days. Ordinarily, Tara would’ve noticed how uncomfortable the mattress was and how the duvet was just coarse enough to be itchy. Now all she took note of was how Sam held her; he wasn’t crushing her against him but his grip on her was firm, along with the sound of his heart pumping steadily beneath his sternum. Residual pleasure drifted through her veins, prolonged by the skin-to-skin contact.

No words were spoken. No words were needed. They were going to find a way to have this, angels and demons and the Apocalypse be damned. Tara ran her index finger around the outline of his tattoo again, bringing Sam out of his snooze. His hand squeezed her hip and she squirmed a bit, twisting her neck to look up at him. Their lips met in a slow, languid kiss. Tara could still taste a hint of herself on him, causing a little noise that had Sam massaging the back of her neck with his large hand.

Tara let Sam roll her under him again, but before his lips could move below her collarbone, his phone rang loudly.

“Damnit.” Sam mumbled into her neck. After one more, sharp suck on her pulse point, Sam sat back, leaned off the bed, and fished his phone out of his jacket. His eyebrows shot up when he looked at the caller ID.

“Dean?” Tara propped herself up on her elbows. What had changed in the past few hours that made Dean call Sam?

“I–I’m in Topeka with Tara.” Tara couldn’t hear what Dean was saying, and she was about to ask Sam to put him on speaker when he spoke again.

“Um, y-yeah. See you soon.” He hung up, unable to take his eyes off the phone.

“What was that about?” She was almost afraid to ask. Sam looked at her.

“Dean wants to meet.”

Tara and Sam went without a second round, checked out of the motel, and hit the road. They took Sam’s car since there was no point parading around in two stolen vehicles. The place Dean had specified for the meet was in the middle of nowhere, down a dirt road that ran alongside an elevated railroad track. As they rolled slowly towards the sleek Impala, Tara’s nerves manifested as twirling a lock of hair around her finger. Something told her something unforeseeable had happened after she left.

Sam stopped the car a few paces away from Dean and they both got out, walking to meet him side by side.

“Sam. Tara.” His tone betrayed nothing, so they waited for him to go on. Dean reached inside his jacket and pulled out the demon knife. Both Sam and Tara took a quarter-step back at the sight of the blade. 

The elder Winchester flipped the knife so he was holding the blade, offering the weapon to Sam.

“If you’re serious and you want back in, you should hang onto this. I’m sure you’re rusty.” Sam accepted the knife, but still neither him nor Tara said a word. She was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Look, man, I’m sorry. I was, uh, I was wrong. And Tara, I owe you an apology too.”

“What made you change your mind?” Sam was still a little cautious. 

“Long story. The point is...maybe we are each other’s Achilles’ Heels, and I’m including you in that too, Tara. Maybe they’ll find a way to use us against each other, I don’t know. I just know we’re all we’ve got. More than that, we keep each other human.” Tara let herself start to hope that things could go back to the way they were.

“Thank you.” She said.

“Really, thank you.” Sam reiterated, “I won’t let you down.”

“Oh, I know. I mean, you  _ are _ the second best hunter on the planet.” Dean considered Tara, “You’re...probably in the top dozen or so. I mean, there’s Bobby, Rufus, Ellen and Jo–”

“Yeah, yeah.” Tara rolled her eyes, a smile creeping its way onto her face.

“So what do we do now?”

“We make our own future.” Tara glanced up at Sam. Somehow, despite all the disagreements they’d had with Dean, they’d all ended up on the same page. He met her gaze. This was better than either of them had hoped.

“What are we waiting for?”


	35. Fallen Idols

Over the course of the next few weeks, the three of them put all their efforts into locating the Colt. They coordinated with Cas and Bobby, following up on powerful demonic omens the latter located or leads on demons that supposedly had information from the former. Nothing panned out.

The three of them were hanging out in a dive bar after their latest failed lead. Dean was reading through newspapers while Sam kept searching for omens on his computer. Tara was busy hustling pool. In all the time that they’d been hunting together, they had quickly discovered that Tara brought in high sums from pool. Normally, it would just be because people underestimated her, but every now and then someone would challenge her enough that she had to use all her tricks, including playing with her other hand. Against the Winchesters, her skills were improving too. She won against Sam about half the time, but Dean normally beat her two times out of three.

Tonight, her prey were four absolutely wasted frat boys who had been more than happy to start betting in twenties. Four quick games later, she’d taken nearly two hundred bucks off them. This newest one took that total up to $250 as she sunk the 8 ball, sneaking it past the 2 where it sat blocking half of the corner pocket she’d called. All four jocks slumped when it clattered against the other balls in that pocket. Tara fought a grin as she picked the wad of cash up off the edge of the table. That had been too easy.

“One more game.” The guy she’d just beaten insisted, slurring his words, “Double or nothing.”

“I dunno...” Tara feigned uncertainty.

“I do.” Dean came sauntering over to them, “Answer’s no.”

“Dean!” Tara exclaimed.

“C’mon. I found a case, we’re hitting the road.” His tone left no room for argument or even negotiation.

“Fine.” She stuffed the cash into her wallet, “Thanks, guys.” Tara saluted the pouting frat boys and followed Dean out to the Impala–after swinging by the lady’s room first. 

\------

“So, what’s with this job?” Sam asked after he looked the case over. Tara agreed. It felt odd to switch back to working an actual case rather than continuing their search for the Colt.

“Dude suffers a head-on collision in a parked car? I’d say that’s worth checking out.”

“Yeah, absolutely, but why can’t you call another hunter in?” 

“We got bigger problems, don’t you think?” Sam added.

“I’m sure the Apocalypse will still be there when we get back.” Dean looked over at Sam, silently daring him to keep arguing. He took the bait.

“Right, yeah, but I mean, if the Colt really out there somewhere–”

“We’ve been looking for three weeks and we’ve got bupkis.”

“Yeah, no argument there, but this isn’t just killing some ghosts here, this is about icing the devil–”

“This is what we’re doing, ok?” Dean snapped, “End of discussion.” Sam and Tara locked eyes in the rearview mirror. This bossy attitude was part of a pattern. Whenever Sam–or Tara, but it was worse with Sam–seemed to disagree with Dean on something, especially anything related to the job, he came down hard. He’d been breathing down both their necks ever since they got back on the road together. He went out to hook up less, which meant not only was he crankier, but Sam and Tara also had much less time with just the two of them. They were lucky to get a few hours to themselves to go on a date every week, and they certainly hadn’t had occasion to blow off steam.

“It’s just that this is our first real case back at it together, you know? I think we ought to ease into it, put the training wheels back on.”

“So you think Tara and I need training wheels?” 

“No, ‘we’.  _ We _ need training wheels, all three of us. As a team. Ok?”

“Ok.” Sam relented. Tara didn’t.

“Ok?” Dean said again, glancing at Tara over his shoulder. She rolled her eyes as soon as he looked back at the road.

“Ok.” She muttered, about as enthusiastic as Sam. They weren’t a team–Dean clearly thought he should have all the power.

“I mean, I really want this to be a fresh start, you know? For all of us.” Sam looked at his brother.

“Ok.” But as fresh starts went, this one felt pretty crappy. Glancing at Tara, he could tell she was thinking the same thing.

\------

Canton was a fairly large town, but not quite what Tara would consider a city. It was smaller than Akron, which was nearby, but had suburbs of its own. When they arrived, they stopped by a motel only long enough to put on their fed getups. Given the chilly weather today, Tara opted for one of her pantsuits.

“Agents Bonam, Copeland, and Ripley.” Dean introduced them to the sheriff, a man approaching the end of middle age with a beer gut and a friendly attitude.

“Rick Carnegie. Good to know you.” He shook their hands, “So you’re here on account of Cal Hopkins’ death?”

“That’s right.”

“Well, ‘friad you came along way for nothing. We already booked the guy that did it.”

“Hold up,” Tara said while Sam and Dean shared a look over her head, “Who do you think did it?”

Carnegie sat the three of them down in his office and inserted a tape into the player. Apparently, the vic had had a friend over at the time of his death. Tara watched as the camera entered the dark garage, only for the cameraman to find his friend dead. Right as he started to scream, Carnegie turned the TV off.

“Sicko taped his own handiwork.” Tara cocked her head. That hadn’t been the impression she got from the tape. ‘Sickos’ like that didn’t tend to freak out at the sight of blood running down a windshield.

“I don’t follow.”

“It was Jim Grossman that killed Cal.” 

“Wait, what?”

“How do you figure?”

“Well, he was the only one on the scene for miles.”

“They were best friends.” Sam repeated the sheriff’s earlier rundown of the supposed perp.

“Most violent crimes are committed by someone close to the victim.” He spewed a textbook fact like they were stupid.

“And how exactly did Jim slam Cal into a windshield with all the force of an 80-mile-per-hour crash?” Dean asked.

“Drugs, maybe?” Carnegie sounded a little unsure, but he shook it off, “Look, this ain’t brain surgery, agents. Whatever it looks like, that’s what it usually is. It’s simple.”

“‘Simple’. Right.”

“Right. If you don’t mind, we’d like to speak to Jim Grossman anyway.”

While Sam and Dean went in to talk to Jim Grossman, Tara got a copy of the tape for them to go through later with a fine tooth comb. However, when she met up with Sam and Dean outside the precinct, Dean had made other plans.

“We’re going by the evidence warehouse to check out the car.” He said as he started the engine.

“The car? Why?”

“Because it’s  _ Little Bastard _ .” Dean couldn’t keep the awe out of his voice. When Tara displayed no hints of recognition, he shook his head, “You and Sam are nerds in the worst kind of way.” He proceeded to explain the significance of the car.

“So, James Dean as in the one mentioned in the song about Jack and Diane?”

“Yes! Ok, you’re redeemable.” Dean decided, “Sam is beyond saving.” Sam flinched hard in the passenger seat and Tara quickly squeezed his right shoulder. Whether or not Dean had meant for it to come out like that, his words had hurt.

\------

The evidence warehouse wasn’t very crowded when they got there, and getting in wasn’t a problem since the sheriff had called ahead for them. Soon, they found themselves in the back corner, on their own, with the bloodstained silver convertible. 

“So, what, this is like  _ Christine _ ?” They circled the car, scanning for EMF. There was none.

“No,  _ Christine  _ is fiction. This...this is real.”

“Ok, enlighten us.” Dean’s speech had only really covered James Dean, not the events after his death.

“Well, after James Dean died, his mechanic bought the wreckage, fixed it up. And it repaid him by falling on him. Then Tony McHenry was killed when it locked up on the racetrack. I mean, death follows this car around like exhaust. Nobody touches it and comes away in one piece.” Dean bent in to examine the driver’s seat. Tara was sorely tempted to run her hand along the exterior just to prove Dean wrong and if he hadn’t been acting like a complete douche lately, she probably would have.

“Then in 1970, it vanished off the back of a truck. Nobody’s ever seen it since. I’m telling you, guys, if this–if this car is  _ Little Bastard _ , I will bet you dollars to doughnuts it’s what killed the guy.”

“So how do we find out?”

“Well, Cal matched the win number, but the only real way to know is the engine number.”

“And if our luck holds, the engine number is–”

“–on the engine.” Dean finished for her, “Yeah.”

They cranked the low-slung vehicle up several inches so there was room for a person to slide under. To do so, Sam and Dean had taken off their suit jackets and rolled up their sleeves. Heat quickly built up and simmered in Tara when she saw the way Sam’s forearms flexed with every turn of the crank. As it was, the shirt had to strain to contain him. She swallowed hard. This was  _ not _ the time to get all hot and bothered. But she and Sam would be getting their own room at the next motel, no matter what Dean said. It would be with money she won herself, so he couldn’t say squat.

When the car was properly elevated, they stood back. Tara could tell Dean was nervous about going under metal beast, no matter how big of a fan he was.

“You want me to do it?” Sam offered.

“Nope. No, no. I–I’ve got it.” Dean circled the car, moving towards the hood, “Ok, baby. I’m not gonna hurt you so...don’t hurt me.” He laid down on the board and rolled under. He hadn’t been under for three seconds before the car creaked. Tara stifled a gasp and Sam put a finger to his lips, kneeling down. The angle gave her a convenient eyeful of his ass.

“Need a flashlight?” Tara heard Dean’s sharp inhale.

“No.” He grunted, “Don’t do anything. Just go away.” His words were harsh, but she could hear the fear behind them.

“You–ok.”

“Don’t speak. In fact, don’t even look at her, she might not like it. Tara, you too.” Sam straightened back up, clearly fighting laughter. Tara shook her head and swatted at him, but didn’t bother holding back the smile. The car creaked again and they managed to get their amusement under control.

A few tense moments later, Dean rolled out from under the car, clasping a slip of paper in his hand. He stood back up, a new sheen of sweat on his face, and handed the slip to Sam.

“Find out who owned it. Not just the last owner, you gotta take it back to 1955.”

“That’s a lot of research.” Sam kept his tone neutral.

“Well, I guess I just made your afternoon.” Then Dean released a noise that bordered on a whimper and made for the warehouse exit.

\------

Dean dropped Tara and Sam back at the motel to do research and headed right back out. He was vague about where he was going, something about following up with Cal’s wife or something. Tara and Sam didn’t mind much if it meant he got off their backs for a few hours. As much as Tara wanted to jump Sam’s bones as soon as the door shut behind him, she knew that if the research wasn’t done by the time Dean got back, there’d be hell to pay. But, that didn’t stop her from having a little fun.

As she sat across from Sam at the coffee table, every now and then she would reach out and run her foot up in the inside of his leg. The first time she did this, Sam mistook her intentions and without so much as glancing away from his screen, reached across the table and placed his hand over hers. Tara bit her tongue and put on her best seductive smirk as she raised her leg higher until her foot was travelling up his inner thigh. Sam’s eyes shot up, shocked at her sudden advance. When he saw the look on her face, he flipped her hand over, exposing the inside of her wrist, and ghosted his fingers along the sensitive skin there. Tara’s smirk faltered and she bit back a whine. Sam chuckled.

“You think I didn’t notice you eyeing my ass earlier?” 

“You knew exactly what you were doing.” Tara shot back. Sam didn’t respond verbally, but his grin told her all she needed to know. He stopped stroking the inside of her wrist and settled for twinning their fingers together. Tara brought her foot back down so it rested against his ankle rather than dangerously close to his crotch and they continued their research on the history of the car’s engine number.

While Sam immediately went back as far as he could, Tara looked into the more recent owners, searching for any unusual deaths. Both threads of research led them to the same, unsatisfying conclusion. Not only had James Dean never owned the car currently sitting in the evidence warehouse, but there was nothing in the car’s history to suggest that it might be haunted. Sam volunteered to call Dean with the news while Tara perused takeout menus from nearby restaurants.

“Hey,” Sam put the phone on speaker when Dean picked up, “Took us awhile, but we traced all the car’s previous owners.”

“Any of them die bloody?” 

“No. In fact,” Sam stopped when the unmistakable sound of billiards balls came through the phone, “Dean, are you in a bar?”

“No, I–I’m in a restaurant.”

“Here’s your beer.” They both heard a woman say in the background. Tara could almost picture the pretty face that the voice belonged to and the low-cut top she was undoubtedly wearing.

“Thanks. It happens to have a bar.” Dean admitted.

“We’ve been working our asses off here.” It seemed Tara wasn’t the only one frustrated with Dean.

“Hey, world’s smallest violin, pal. I spent the afternoon up Christine’s skirt; I needed a drink.”

“Actually, you didn’t.”

“Meaning?”

“That car hasn’t been in so much as a fender-bender, let alone a fatal crash.” Tara said.

“And, the car’s first owner was a cardiologist in Philadelphia–drove it til he died in 1972.”

“So you’re saying…”

“That Porsche is not, nor has it ever been, James Dean’s car. It’s a fake  _ Little Bastard _ .”

“I guess that means you could say it’s a little bastard.” By some miracle, Tara managed to keep her voice steady. Dean laughed before becoming serious again.

“Then what was it that killed the guy?”

“Good question.”

“That we will look into tomorrow.” Tara continued before Dean could tell them to look into it tonight. She hung up. Sam looked mildly surprised by her actions but any protests left his mind when she slid out of her chair and onto his lap.

When Dean got back a few hours later, it was to a dark motel room, a couple of empty pizza boxes, and Sam and Tara asleep in one of the beds. Tara’s mattress was blown up and made up on the floor, but it seemed that their evening had taken a different direction. The smell of sex still hung heavy in the air. Sam woke up when the door opened and the light from the parking lot fell on his face, but when he saw it was just Dean, he pressed closer into Tara’s back, pulled the covers up to completely cover her bare shoulder, and went back to sleep.

\------

The next morning, Tara woke up with a warm wall against her back and a pleasant soreness between her legs. One of Sam’s arms was draped over her waist, his forearm nestled between her breasts and the back of his hand resting on her collarbone. Their legs were loosely entangled, completely preventing Tara from moving. Not that she wanted to. Sam was still asleep, his breath fanning over the top of her head. 

Dean, on the other hand, was already awake, reading something on his laptop. When he saw her shift slightly, he looked over at her with an expression that bordered on disapproval.

“What?” She asked as quietly as she could. Dean shook his head.

“Nothing, it’s just that you’re cuddled up to the guy who started the Apocalypse.” Tara glared at Dean, but before she could say anything, a call came over the police scanner and Sam woke up. From the sound of it, the officer wasn’t quite sure what to make of the murder scene. Dean scribbled the address down and grabbed his fed suit.

“C’mon. We’re rolling in five.” He went into the bathroom, giving Tara and Sam privacy to get dressed themselves.

The vic was a college professor who had been found shot to death in his home. By the time they arrived, the body had been taken to the morgue, but pictures were still being taken of the scene.

“Heard you got another weird one.” Dean greeted the sheriff.

“Well, it’s–it’s a little strange on the surface, I admit, but you know, once y-you look at the facts…” But he could find the words to finish his sentence.

“William Hill died from a gunshot wound to the head.” Sam repeated what they’d heard over the scanner, “No gun, no gunpowder, no bullet.”

“Nope, nothin’ strange about that.”

“Well there’s gotta be a reasonable explanation.” Carnegie clung to his belief in logic, “There always is.”

“Well, what can you come up with that fits all the facts?” Tara crossed her arms. Carnegie glanced around to make sure no one was eavesdropping and leaned towards them.

“Professional killer.”

“Come again?”

“CIA, NSA, one of them trained assassins. Like in  _ Michael Clayton _ .” The three of them were stunned into silence. And people said  _ they _ were the crazy ones.

“Riiight.”

“You’re welcome to look about, but these guys don’t leave fingerprints.”

“Mind if we talk with the witness?”

“Be my guest. She’s not making any sense. And she’s not making any sense in Spanish either.”

“Riiight.” 

They found the housekeeper outside, wrapped in a shock blanket and begging the officer to let her go home.

“Consuela Alvarez?” 

“Yes?” She asked in heavily accented English.

“FBI.” They flashed their badges and the officer sitting with her backed off, “Now you said you saw something in the professors house, right? Something in the window?” As soon as he said that, she took off speaking in rapid Spanish. Tara caught the first few words, but it quickly became apparent that she was out of practice with spoken Spanish. 

“Um, Señora Alvarez, cálmese por favor.” Sam sat down on the bench next to her but seemed to be at a loss for what to say next. Tara quickly stepped up to the plate and asked the housekeeper to describe the assailant.

“Era alto. Muy alto.” She spoke slower now, and it was easier for Tara to understand. When she finished, Tara translated for Dean.

“A very tall man, wearing a long black coat, and a…” She didn’t remember the last word Consuela had used.

“A beard?” Sam asked. Consuela nodded.

“Y un sombrero.”

“Dude was wearing a sombrero?”

“It just means hat, not what you’re thinking.”

“Un sombrero  _ alto _ .” She added.

“A tall hat?”

“Oh, like a top hat?”

“Un sombrero alto. Muy alto!” She held her arms apart for emphasis.

“You mean like a stovepipe hat?”

“Sí.”

“Oh yeah, you know, like Abraham Lincoln.”

“Sí.” Consuela started to cry, “El Presidente Lincoln. Abraham Lincoln kill Mr. Hill!” She was nearly hysterical by the time she got it all out. Tara exchanged looks with Sam and Dean. Whatever they’d been expecting her to say, this wasn’t it.

“Can I go home now?” She asked.

“Sí,” Sam told her, “Gracias.”

“Gracias.” Dean and Tara repeated.

\------

Back at the motel, all three of them sat at the coffee table typing away on their computers. This time, there were no shenanigans going on under the table. While Dean went through the footage from Cal’s murder, Sam researched famous ghosts and Tara dug into both victim’s lives, looking for anything they had in common. Dean found something first.

“Whoa.”

“What?” Sam and Tara looked up. Dean punched a few keys on his computer before turning it around to show them.

“It’s a freeze-frame from Jim Grossman’s video.” A polished hubcap took up a large portion of the frame, and in the warped, shiny reflection was a man wearing a red shirt.

“Am I crazy or does that look like James Dean?”

“That looks like James Dean.”

“So we got Abraham Lincoln  _ and _ James Dean? Famous ghosts?”

“Maybe.” Sam looked back at his computer.

“That’s just silly.”

“No, actually, there’s a ton of lore on famous ghosts. More than the, you know, not-famous kinds. I’m actually surprised we haven’t run into one before.”

“Yeah, but now we’ve got two of them? Two extremely pissed-off ghosts?”

“Who are apparently ganking their fans.” Tara said.

“What do you mean?”

“The only thing I could find in common with the two vics is that they stanned the person that killed them. Professor Hill was a civil war nut.”

“So he dug Lincoln.” Sam caught on to what she was trying to say. 

“And Cal must’ve been a James Dean freak. He spent seventeen years of his life tracking down the guy’s car.” Dean finished, “So you’re saying that we’ve got two super-famous, super-pissed-off ghosts killing their...super-fans?”

“That’s what it looks like.” Tara closed her computer.

“Well that is muchos loco.” Tara cringed at the improper grammar and Sam chuckled.

“Muy.” He corrected his brother, “Not muchos.”

“Yeah, well the big question is what the hell are they doing here?”

“Ghosts usually haunt the places that they lived. I mean, I get Abraham Lincoln at the White House.”

“And James Dean at a racetrack, but...what the hell are they doing in Canton?”

“You gotta be kidding me.” Sam’s mutter broke the silence half an hour later.

“What?” Dean, who had taken a beer break, came back to the coffee table. Sam spun his computer so Tara could see without having to get up. She and Dean both read the webpage Sam had up. There was a wax museum in town that, according to the page, featured both James Dean and Abraham Lincoln.

“You gotta be kidding me.” They echoed.

\------

The Canton, Ohio wax museum was certainly an unusual establishment. The air inside was musty and there were no guests in sight. Their footsteps seemed abnormally quiet on the polished floor and the lights were dim in order to emphasize the wax displays.

As soon as they walked in, Tara’s skin started to crawl. The wax that made up the skin, especially the faces, had an unnatural matte sheen to it and the plastic eyes showed too much white. Sweat broke out on her palms and Tara stepped a little closer to Sam. While he perused the exhibits, she did her best to just look straight at his back.

“Dude, he’s short.” She jumped badly when Dean spoke. He was standing in front of the Gandhi exhibit.

“Hey. Gandhi was a great man.”

“Yeah, for a smurf.” The sound of footsteps drew the attention of the three hunters to a staircase marked ‘Employees Only’. A short, prematurely balding man was hurrying down them.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, this is our busiest time of the year.”

“This is busy?”

“W-well not right now, but, it’s early.”

“It’s 4:30.” Tara pointed out, somehow managing to forget the creepy statues surrounding them enough to speak.

“So, what can I do for you?”

“Well, we are writing a piece for  _ Travel  _ magazine.”

“Yeah on how totally not-sucky wax museums are.”

“That’s fantastic! A little press is just what we need!”

“Great, well, we’re interested in a few of your exhibits, specifically Abraham Lincoln and James Dean.”

“Two of our most popular displays.” He turned to look at the statue on Lincoln next to him.

“Oh, yeah? They bring in a lot of visitors?”

“We have our regulars.”

“I don’t suppose that William Hill and Cal Hopkins were regulars, were they?”

“As a matter of fact, they were. I heard what happened to them. It’s tragic, just tragic. That’s not gonna be in the article, is it?”

“Oh, no. Definitely not.” Tara reassured him.

“You know, I gotta tell you. That Lincoln is so...lifelike.” Tara resisted the urge to shudder physically at Dean’s comment, “I mean, you know you could just imagine him moving around. You ever see anything like that?”

“Uh...no.”

“Well, is there anything you can think of that would make your museum...unusual? You know, for the article?”

“Well, I’ll say. There isn’t another place like us, not anywhere.”

“How so?”

“Well, for one,” He pointed at Lincoln and Tara’s eyes followed before she could stop them, “That’s honest Abe’s real hat.”

“It is?”

“Almost like his remains.” Dean commented. 

“I guess.” The guy looked a little grossed out.

“You wouldn’t happen to have any of James Dean’s personal effects, would you?”

“Yeah, got his keychain. We got a bunch of stuff–Gandhi’s bifocals, FDR’s iron lung, this.” He drew their attention to the leather jacket he had on.

“Who did that belong to?”

“The Fonz. Seasons two through four.”

“Wow. That’s really cool...ish.”

“Oh, this? This is nothing. I’ve been working on a new collection of figures, stuff that’ll really wow the kids.”

“The kids?”

“Yeah, Gen-Y. Computer games, cellphones, sexting–” he scoffed, “–they’re just fads. I’m gonna make wax museums hip again!”

“Well, that sounds great.” Tara put on her best fake smile, “I think we’ve got all we need for the article.”

“Super! I’ll be here if you have any more questions!” He hurried back up the stairs he’d come down. Tara waited until she heard the door close before making a beeline for the door, trying not to meet the dead eyes of any wax figures on the way.

“Babe, are you ok?” Sam caught up with her at the entrance, placing a hand on the small of her back as they exited the building.

“I am now.” Tara inhaled deeply. Never had the stench of car exhaust smelled so good. So much better than the mustiness inside the museum. She shook out her hands, trying to get the feeling of insects crawling on her skin to stop. Dean was sniggering.

“You were looking at those wax dummies like you thought one of them was going to eat you! Like Sam around clowns!” He started across the street, heading for the car. Sam rubbed her back a little more firmly.

“Hey, if you wanna take a knee tonight, Dean and I can handle the burning on our own.” Tara swallowed hard and shook her head.

“No, no. They’re just stupid lumps of wax that operate in the uncanny valley. I’m good.” Sam smiled.

“Is that why you skipped out on watching  _ Polar Express  _ last Christmas?”

“Guilty as charged.” She managed a small, genuine smile in return.

“What’s the hold up?” Dean shouted from across the street, already halfway into the car, “Let’s move!”

\------

Around midnight, Sam and Tara went out to the car to make sure they were all set for tonight’s incursion. That mainly consisted of loading the shotguns full of rock salt, but for Tara it included her cleaning and sharpening her iron dagger. After the djinn had captured her, she decided that she needed more in her arsenal than just big guns–or machetes as long as her forearm. She needed something small she’d be able to conceal on her person, but still get to if she was tied up. When she finished, she slipped the dagger into a leather sheath and tucked it into her rearmost belt loop under the belt itself. It wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world, but with this hunt in particular, she wanted to feel that reminder that she wasn’t completely defenseless.

“Sam, can you see the knife at all?” She hiked up her shirt and turned her back to him. Sam gulped when he saw how tightly the jeans hugged the curve of her ass. Despite being with her last night, Sam felt his jeans becoming uncomfortably tight.

“Sam?” Her voice made him flush and he shifted his eyes up to her belt.

“Um, no. No, I can’t see it.”

“Great, thanks!” She dropped her shirt back down and turned back, coming up on her tip-toes to kiss him on the cheek. Sam was sorely tempted to escalate the kiss, but he knew that would only lead to them getting riled up with no opportunity for an outlet, so he pulled away. Tara felt one of his arms snake around her waist and they began their walk back to the room.

The door was ajar like they’d left it, and they could hear Dean talking to someone on the phone.

“Yeah, Abraham Lincoln  _ and  _ James Dean. Can you believe that? Why so kill-crazy?” Sam pushed open the door and they saw Dean standing with his back to them.

“Ah, maybe the Apocalypse has got ‘em all hot and bothered. Yeah, well we all know which disaster couple is responsible for that. Granted it was more him, but still.” Tara shut the door loudly behind them. She didn’t all-out slam it, but used more force than was strictly necessary. The noise made Dean glance back at them.

“I’ll call you later, bye.” He hung up and proceeded to act like nothing as wrong. 

“What’s going on?” Sam’s tone was level.

“Did you get the trunk packed up?”

“Yeah, trunk’s packed. Who was on the phone?” Tara kept quiet, because if she didn’t, she was going to shout at him.

“Bobby.”

“And?”

“Nothing.”

“So we’re just gonna pretend we didn’t hear what we just heard?” His hand tightened on her waist.

“Pretend or don’t pretend, whatever floats your boat.”

“This was supposed to be a fresh start, Dean.” Tara ground her teeth, “Where our relationship is  _ our _ business, not yours.”

“Well, this is about as good as it gets.” He grabbed his jacket, “Now are we going or not?” He walked around them, giving them a wide berth, and left the room. Tara closed her eyes and let a long breath out through her nose. A large pair of hands clasped her upper arms and Sam pressed his forehead against hers. Tara placed her hands on his elbows and they shared air for a few moments. She felt her blood pressure and heart rate dropping with every breath. When she finally opened her eyes, Sam’s orbs, which looked almost chocolate brown in the low light, were staring back at her.

“You ready to go?” Tara nodded at first, but then shook her head.

“No. Let’s do this.”

\------

The wax museum was even creepier at night. The only lights that remained on in the building were the spotlights on the displays. The gentle low lights that had lit the rest of the area were off, making it even harder for Tara to keep her attention away from the disturbing statues. Almost as soon as they descended the stairs to the main floor, Tara’s skin was crawling and her palms were sweating.

When they passed the Lincoln exhibit, Dean stopped the grab the hat while Tara went a few feet farther to grab a trash can.

“Check it out.” When she turned back, she saw that Dean had put on the hat, “Four-score and seven years ago, I had a funny hat.” He imitated Lincoln. Tara rolled her eyes and Sam scoffed. 

“Dean.”

“Very mature.”

“I can’t have any fun with this?”

“Lets just torch the objects, torch the ghosts, and get out of here, ok?”

“I’ll go grab  _ East of Eden’s _ key chain.” He dropped the hat in the trash can and went off into one of the other adjoining rooms.

“Does he even know where he’s going?” They hadn’t exactly seen the James Dean exhibit when they were here earlier.

“Probably not.” Sam admitted, “But you don’t have to–”

“Yeah, I do.” Tara sighed, heading for one of the other rooms. She didn’t like the thought of going off alone, but if Dean was determined to prosecute her at every turn, then she wasn’t going to give him any easy marks.

The room she chose was smaller than the last, but it still had enough displays to make her uneasy. She adjusted her grip on her shotgun, wiping her hand on her jeans. As she made her way around the room, she made sure to look at the plaques rather than the figures themselves. Not that she would recognize James Dean if she saw him.

The door back into the room where Sam was slammed. Tara’s heart skipped a beat and she raced back to the door, pounding on the wood panelling, but it had no give. She whirled back around. None of the wax figures were moving.

“Sam!” She could hear Dean shouting down the hall. Tara sprinted towards his voice and found him pounding on the door he’d left through.

“Dean!” 

“What are you doing here?!” He demanded.

“I was also looking for he James Dean display.”

“Why? I knew exactly where it was!”

“How?”

“Because I grabbed one of those maps from the front desk. Get with the program!”

“I’m sorry! I won’t try to be helpful next time!” She placed a solid kick on the door right below the lock. The doors trembled but they held.

“Alright. One, two, three!” On three, she and Dean placed dual kicks on the doors, sending them flying open. Tara’s eyes found Sam almost immediately, even in the dark. He was in the middle of the room, struggling to get a much smaller figure off his back. The smaller figure was wearing a white toga.

“Dean!” He managed to shout.

“Is that Gandhi?!”

“Yeah!”

“Dude, he’s squirrelly.” 

“Get the–” Sam choked on his words.

“Get the what!?”

“Glasses.” Tara supplied, bolting for the Gandhi exhibit. She beat Dean there, and before she could even register what she was doing, she reached up and grabbed the spectacles herself. She threw them into the trash can with the hat and key chain while Dean lit a lighter and threw it in. The hat caught first, making the flames suddenly leap up. Tara felt the heat, but kept her eyes on Sam. The Gandhi hanging piggy-back on him suddenly vanished, but he didn’t go up in a shower of fire and sparks. It looked more like someone had thrown an invisibility cloak over him. Sam collapsed forward, gasping for breath.

“You couldn’t have been a fan of someone cool?” Dean let himself relax a bit, “Really? Gandhi?”

“Let’s just go.” Tara muttered before Sam could respond. Not that it looked like he was going to.

\------

Dean woke them up just after sunrise with orders to “pack and be ready to go in fifteen.” But Tara and Sam weren’t so sure that this job was over. Glances and a quiet conversation while Dean was in the bathroom last night revealed that they both felt off about Gandhi’s demise. They set about packing anyway, because hopefully whatever was going on could be figured out without spending another night here.

“Ready to blow this joint?” Dean asked exactly fifteen minutes after he shook them awake.

“Dean, didn’t it strike you as strange the way Gandhi just vanished?”

“Strange how?”

“He didn’t scream, he didn’t flame out. And the room didn’t get all that chilly either.” Tara pointed out.

“That isn’t the way ghosts usually go.”

“Still, I torched, he vanished.”

“Yeah, but I–” Sam stopped to calm down. They needed to be as non-confrontational as possible here, “Also, I feel like he was trying to take a bite out of me.”

“A bite?”

“Yeah, like he was hungry. But the thing is, Gandhi, or the  _ real _ Gandhi, he was a–” He cut himself off.

“A what?” But Sam didn’t respond right away. To Tara, it looked like he was steeling himself against Dean’s inevitable reaction, “Spit it out.”

“He was a fruitarian.” Almost immediately, Dean was laughing.

“Let me get this straight. Your ultimate hero was not only a short man in diapers, but he was also a fruitarian?”

“That’s not the point.” Sam had his hands on his hips now.

“That is good. That is–even for you, that is good.”

“Look, Dean, all we’re trying to say here is we’re not sure this case is over.”

“It was a ghost. It was a weirdly, super-charged  _ fruitarian _ ghost, but it was still a ghost. Now let’s go.”

“So first, you drag us into town and now you’re dragging us back out?”

“Neither of you are steering this boat.” He swung his bag over his shoulder, “Let’s go. Chop-chop.” He started walking towards the door. Sam and Tara shared a quick look to make sure they were both still on board with the plan they’d come up with last night.

“You know, this isn’t gonna work.” Sam put his foot down.

“What isn’t?” Dean seemed genuinely puzzled.

“Us. You, me, Tara, hunting together. I thought it could, but it can’t.”

“You’re the one who wanted back in, chief.”

“And you’re the one who called me back in.”

“I still think we’ve got some trust-building to do–”

“How long are we gonna be on double-secret probation?” Tara interjected.

“Until I say so.” Tara gave a single nod and looked at Sam. He’d made it clear the he wanted to be the one to try and explain their point of view.

“Look, I know what I did. What I’ve done. And I am trying to climb out of that hole, I am, but it’s not right for you to be throwing Tara in with me to share equal guilt.”

“What, so I’m just supposed to let her off the hook?”

“I’m right here.” Tara muttered.

“Dean, I  _ asked _ her to keep that secret. Even if she had told you, it probably wouldn’t have stopped it.”

“You can stop taking your resentment of the situation out on me.” Tara said, louder this time, “You started doing it when it was just the two of us hunting because you knew that whatever you said to me would make its way back to him, but you still haven’t stopped. You told me back at Bobby’s that this wasn’t my fault. It’s time to prove it.”

“By letting you  _ both _ off the hook, is that what you’re saying?”

“No.” Sam cut in, “You can think whatever you want about me. I deserve it and worse–but she doesn’t. Hell, you’ll never punish me as much as I’m punishing myself. The point is, if the three of us are going to be a team, it can’t be a one-way street.”

“So we just go back to the way we were before?”

“No, because we were never that way before. Before didn’t work. How do you think we got here?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Dean, one of the reasons I went off with Ruby,” Tara grimaced at her name, “Was to get away from you.”

“What?”

“It made me feel strong, like I wasn’t just your kid brother.”

“Are you saying this is  _ my  _ fault?” Dean got defensive.

“No, it’s  _ my _ fault. All I’m saying is that if we’re gonna do this, we have to do it different. We can’t just fall into the same rut.”

“What do you want me to do?” For the first time in this conversation, Dean sounded honestly open to hearing what Sam wanted and potentially following through.

“You’re gonna have to let me grow up, for starters.” Tara nodded her agreement.

“And you’ve got to treat our relationship as more than just a middle school thing.” She added, “Thought that kinda goes with the growing up part.” Dean looked like he was considering their requests, but before he could say anything, his cellphone rang. Tara bit her tongue to keep from groaning her annoyance as he fumbled with his jacket, using the call as an excuse to avoid continuing the conversation.

“Yeah?” Whatever the other person said had Dean looking at her and Sam with a serious expression, “Yeah. Yeah, ok.” He closed the phone. “I guess you guys were right about this not being over.”

\------

They threw on their fed getups and headed back to the police station. Carnegie was waiting for them when they arrived, looking more unsure than ever.

“Sheriff, what happened?”

“I, uhhhh….I don’t know.” He jerked his thumb in the direction of one of the conference rooms. Through the blinds, Tara could see two teenage girls crying. When it became clear that the sheriff wasn’t going to say anything more, they stepped into the room.

“Excuse us ladies.” Tara said gently, “Hi. We’re with the FBI.”

“Can you tell us what happened?”

“It was horrible.” One of them said.

“Way horrible.” Said the other.

“What was horrible?”

“I thought she’d be nice.”

“I still can’t believe it.”

“Believe what?”

“She took Danielle!”

“Who?” Instead of continuing to talk over one another, the girls looked at each other.

“It’s ok.” Tara tried to reassure them, “You’re safe. Just tell us who took your friend.”

“It was...Paris Hilton.” Tara opened an closed her mouth, unable to find the words.

“Sorry?”

“She looked really good, though.”

“Skinny!”

“Skinny and fast.”

“W–huh?” Dean was just as tongue-tied as she was.

“Um, where did they go?”

“We don’t know.”

“They just vanished.” 

“Can you give us a minute?” By some miracle, Tara kept herself from stuttering. All three of them turned to the girls couldn’t hear them.

“Paris Hilton’s not dead as far as we know, right?”

“Pretty sure, no.”

“I think all the gossip mags in the gas ‘n sip would be sporting her face if she was.”

“Which means it’s not a…”

“Ghost, no.”

“So either Paris Hilton is a homicidal maniac or–”

“We definitely missed something.” Tara concluded.

\------

After arranging to have the room for one more night, the three of them dug into the deaths of Cal Hopkins and William Hill. Doing so required them sneaking into the morgue to look at the autopsy reports. Well, Sam and Tara anyway. Dean took a knee because he didn’t have medical scrubs. While Tara loitered by the entrance to the morgue, ready to distract anyone who tried to go in, Sam went through the reports. After about ten minutes of her standing guard, Sam summoned her inside. The fingers of the gloves he was wearing were soaked with blood and the professor’s body had a new incision in it. Apparently, there was something in the vic’s stomach that he couldn’t quite grab.

“Your hands are a lot smaller, so it’ll be easier for you to grab whatever’s in there.” Tara felt like she was going to be sick. Not that she was afraid of doing it, but she’d barely made it through the frog dissection in high school. She was already breathing through her mouth to keep from smelling the corpse.

“But I don’t know what I’m looking for. I’ve never stuck my hand in a dead person before!”

“They’re these little hard balls. You can’t miss them.” Tara pulled on a pair of rubber gloves and went up to the corpse. The skin was pale, stained dark red by the blood. She reached for the incision, but pulled back at the last second. Bile rose in her throat and she only just managed to swallow it back down.

“No. Uh-uh. I can’t do it.”

“You can.” Sam inisted, “Don’t look, just feel around.” Tara cringed, squinted until she could barely see, and reached inside. Sure enough, she felt the balls Sam was talking about. The blood made them slippery, but after a couple attempts, she was able to grab them and extract her hand. 

“Thank you.” Sam held out his hand and she passed the objects to him, “What the hell?” He examined them.

“You owe me a night out. To a fancy restaurant, not take out.”

“Deal.”

Tara found a pair of identical balls inside Cal’s body too. She washed and bagged them while Sam put the bodies back in their freezers. Then, they dumped the soiled scrubs and went back to the car.

“I can’t believe I missed it.” Sam said to Dean as they headed down the stairs of the coroner’s office.

“Missed what?”

“Went back over the other two vics. There was major blood loss.”

“Yeah, well being a gory smear will do that to you.”

“No, I mean more blood loss than a car crash or head wound should cause. Almost like–”

“Something’s feeding.”

“Yeah.”

“Awesome.”

“And then there’s these.” Tara dangled the bags in front of Dean. He grabbed them so he could see the contents.

“What are those? Seeds?”

“Yeah. They were in both vic’s bellies.” Dean let go of the bags, disgusted.

“I hope you washed your hands.”

“Three times, plus hand sanitizer.”

“They’re unlike any other seed I’ve ever seen before, Dean.”

“Wow, just when I thought you couldn’t get any geekier.”

Back at the motel, Sam looked into the seeds while Tara washed her hands again. No matter how long she ran them under hot water, she couldn’t get the slimy feeling of blood off them.

“Yahtzee!” Sam exclaimed suddenly.

“What?”

“The seeds aren’t from around here. In fact, they’re not from any tree or plant in the country.”

“I’ll bite.” Tara dried her hands off, “Where are they from?”

“Eastern Europe, from a forest in the Balkans, which is not even there anymore. It was chopped down like thirty years ago.”

“So?”

“So, local legend has it that the forest was guarded by a pagan god whose name was Leshi–a mischievous god who could take on infinite forms.”

“And lemme guess, he liked to munch on his fans.”

“Yep.” Sam began to read from the page he had found, “Could be appeased only with the blood from his worshippers. It would drain them and then stuff their stomachs with the seeds.”

“How’s he doing it? What, he touches James Dean’s keychain and then morphs into James Dean?”

“Who cares how he does it? He’s doing it, and he’s killing people here who aren’t even his fans.”

“Good point, Hershey. How do we kill him?”

“It says here to chop off his head with an iron ax.”

“Alright. Let’s go gank ourselves a Paris Hilton.”

“Does this mean we have to go back to the museum again?” Tara asked, fearing the answer.

\------

As it happened, the answer was yes. Just like the night before, they broke in right after midnight. And just like last night, Tara kept her eyes away from the wax displays as best she could. Despite their previous break-in, there didn’t seem to be any extra security measures in place. 

The three of them roamed through the different rooms, staying fairly together this time, and nothing seemed out of the ordinary until they came across a room that was closed off for renovations. Sam whistled to Dean, who was on the other side of the room. Together, they broke through the cheap plywood that sectioned the room off. Inside, the room was imitating a front yard. Some fake trees, bushes, and grass took up most of the floor, but towards the back of the space was a white house with a wax mannequin standing on the porch. Tied to one of the trees, slightly tucked away, was a girl who looked about the same age as the ones from the police station.

“Hey.” Sam went over to her and checked her pulse.

“She alive?”

“Yeah, barely.” But as soon as he finished, the ax Dean was holding was ripped away from him and embedded itself in another tree. When Tara turned around, all she saw was a gorgeous blonde chick in a blue dress swinging a fist at her. Pain exploded in the side of her head and she was unconscious before she hit the ground.

\------

Tara woke to the sound of repetitive metallic scraping. The inconsistency of the length of the noises and the intervals between grated on her nerves, accelerating her journey back to consciousness. Her left temple was throbbing lightly, but she didn’t suspect a concussion. She opened her eyes, blinking, and tried to rub her temple only to find that her hands were bound around one of the tree’s just like the girl’s. Just like Sam and Dean were on her left. From the look of it, they had just come too as well. Past them, sitting on a tree stump in front of the fake house, was Paris Hilton. Well, Leshi wearing her form in any case.

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re awake for this.” She continued sharpening a slim, curved dagger of bronze. Sparks flew off the blade with every swipe of her nail, “This is gonna be  _ huge _ .” Tara’s fingernails aches and her teeth itched with each swipe. She couldn’t imagine abusing her nails like that.

“Super. I wouldn’t wanna miss it.” Dean quipped. Tara started to struggle with her bonds. Just like last night, she’d tucked her iron knife out of sight and she could feel it against her back now. Somehow, Leshi had missed it when he–or she?–had trussed her up.

“I mean, I’ve been stuffing myself with fast food lately, so it’s nice to do the ritual right. Prepare a nice, slow meal for a change.”

“Just like the good old days, huh?” Paris turned her head, and for a moment her face flickered, providing a glimpse of the monster beneath.

“You have no idea. People  _ adored _ me. They used to throw themselves at me with smiles on their faces.” Tara squirmed, trying to extend one arm so the other hand could reach her belt, but it was no good. So she grabbed the rope and started rubbing it against the rough bark of the tree.

“Yeah, I guess these days nobody gives a flying crap about some backwoods-forest god, huh.” 

“A forest god without a forest, you mean.” Tara smirked. Paris’ smile fell and her glared at them. Her next swipe with her nails seemed to have more force behind it.

“No. They cut down my forest to build a Yugo plant.”

“March of progress, sister.”

“For years now, I’ve been wandering. Hungry, scared. Scrounging for scraps.” She spat, “ _ So _ not sexy. But then, the best thing ever happened. Someone tripped the Apocalypse. And I decided what the hell. I’m tired watching what I eat. I wanna pig out.” Tara shifted the way she was rubbing the rope. She could feel it chafing, starting to yield to the bark, but it was also chafing her wrists.

“So I found this little place. It’s awesome. Adoring fans stroll right in the door.”

“Yeah, but they’re not  _ your _ fans.”

“So? They worship Lincoln, Gandhi, Hilton. Whatever. I’ll take what I can get.”

“Man, I thought I knew some desperate people who’d do anything to get what they wanted in college,” Tara laughed, “But they can’t hold a candle to you.”

“I agree. You’re not the first god we’ve met, but you are the neediest. And the nuttiest.”

“No, you. You people. You’re the crazy ones. You used to worship gods. But this?” She gestured to herself, “This is what passes for idolatry? Celebrities? What have they got besides small dogs and spray tans? You people used to have old-time religion. Now you have  _ Us Weekly _ .”

“I don’t know, I’m more of a  _ Penthouse Forum  _ man myself.”

“Or  _ Busty Asian Beauties _ .” Tara muttered. She felt the rope give a bit more.

“Maybe,” Paris got up and sauntered over to Dean, walking just fine on the grass in her blue high heels, “But there’s still a lot of yummy meat on those bones, boy.”

“Well, I hate to break it to you, sister, but, you can’t kill me. See, I’m not a Paris Hilton BFF. I’ve never even seen  _ House of Wax _ .” Tara shuddered. She hadn’t seen the movie either, but the trailer had only served to increase her fear of wax people.

“No. But I can totally read you mind, Dean. I know who your hero is. Your daddy. Am I right?” Instead of waiting for an answer, Paris smirked and went over to the ax that was still embedded in the tree.

“And this belonged to him, didn’t it? Poor little Dean. All you ever wanted was to be loved by your idol.” She stroked the handle of the weapon, “One distant father figure coming right up.” But before she could shapeshift, Dean broke free from his bonds and tackled her. Tara struggled harder as she watched the forest god deliver a solid punch to Dean’s face and roll him under her. Tara’s rope gave a little more, and now she could reach her belt. She strained, her shoulder stretching uncomfortably, but managed to get a hand on the hilt. Cutting through the remainder of the rope was easy.

As Paris Hilton continued to punch Dean again and again, Tara bolted over to the ax, placed a foot against the tree, and yanked it free. The extra force sent her stumbling back, but Sam was there to catch her and took the ax. While her back was turned, Dean somehow shoved Paris off him. Once she was on the ground, Sam brought the ax down hard on the god’s neck. It took several blows for the head to be completely severed, and each one made blood spray across his face, but before long, Leshi was dead. When he turned to face her and Dean, who was still on the floor, he had blood on the entire left side of his face. Now that the danger had passed, the amusement of the situation was starting to set in.

“Not a word!”

“Dude, you just got  _ whaled  _ on by Paris Hilton.” Sam said between breaths. Tara started laughing too.

“Shut up.” Dean muttered as he rolled to his feet.

\------

They cleaned their prints as best they could, replaced the plywood blocking the room off, and took the girl to the hospital. Hopefully, by the time the dead body was discovered, they would be long gone. Back at the motel, Sam had carefully rubbed ointment onto Tara’s chaffed wrists. Though it had stung a bit at first, she had enjoyed the way he massaged further up her arms than strictly necessary.

Now that morning had come, they were on their way out of town and Dean was finishing his last conversation with Sheriff Carnegie.

“Uh-huh. Alright, thank you.” He tucked his phone away in a pocket, “Danielle’s gonna be alright. She’s sworn off  _ The Simple Life _ , but other than that–”

“I’m glad she’s ok.”

“It gets better. Sheriff’s putting out an APB on Paris Hilton.” Tara snickered.

“Can’t wait to read about that one in the gossip mag headlines.” Dean unlocked the trunk of the Impala and they piled their bag in.

“Listen, I was thinking about what you guys said yesterday. About me keeping too tight of a leash on you.” Sam and Tara both stayed silent, waiting for him to go on.

“Well, maybe you’re right. I mean, look, I’m not exactly Mr. Innocent in this whole mess either, you know. I  _ did _ break the first seal.”

“You didn’t know.”

“Yeah, well neither did you. I’m not saying demon blood was a great way to go, but you did kill Lilith.”

“And start the Apocalypse.”

“Which none of us saw coming. Who would’ve thought killing Lilith would’ve been a bad thing? Point is, I was so worried about watching your every move that I didn’t see what it was actually doing to you. And Tara, you were right. None of this is on you, and I took it out on you anyway. So for all that, I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.” 

“Apology accepted.” Dean closed the trunk.

“So where do we go from here?”

“The way I see it, we got one shot at surviving this.”

“What’s that?”

“Maybe I am on deck for the devil, maybe it’s the same for you and Michael. Maybe there’s no changing that.”

“I thought this was supposed to be a pep talk?”

“ _ But _ we can stop wringing our hands over it. We gotta just grab on to whatever’s in front of us, kick it’s ass, and go down fighting.” Tara considered it. The odds that they actually managed to stop the Apocalypse were slim to none, but Sam was right. Now wasn’t the time to be wishy-washy about anything, because that would only get them dead faster.

“I can get on board with that.” Dean said.

“Me too.”

“Ok. But we’re gonna have to do it on the same level.” Tara nodded her agreement and they both looked at Dean. The older Winchester shrugged.

“You got it. What do you say we get the hell out of here?”

“Hell yeah.” They turned to head for their respective doors, but Dean stopped, hesitating.

“Hey.” He offered the keys to Sam, “You wanna drive?” Sam looked at the keys like they might bite him.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I, uh, I could use a nap.” After another moment of consideration, Sam accepted the keys and went for the driver’s door instead.

“Shotgun!” Tara bolted for the passenger door. 

Dean pointed at her, “Now, hey, wait a minute–”

“You get the best naps in the back seat anyway.” She grinned, already climbing in. Dean withdrew his pointed finger and made a fist.

“You win. This time.” But unlike every joke he’d made that involved her in the past month or so, there was no hidden malice behind his words. She settled into the passenger seat as Sam fired up the engine and turned out onto the road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry I've been so inactive these past couple weeks. Life's been really busy. I'm going to be slammed these next three weeks, but if I get a chance to upload something, I will. Still looking for someone to write smut for me if anyone is interested!  
> ~Mira


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